“Fire’s out!” announced Amy. “The skipper says so. And I am not afraid of a capful of wind.”
There was more danger, however, than the girls imagined. The water that had been poured into the yacht’s hold did not make her any more seaworthy. It was necessary to start the pump to try to clear the hold.
The clapperty-clap; clapperty-clap! of the pump and the water swishing across the deck to be vomited out of the hawse holes was nothing to add to the passengers’ feelings of confidence. Besides, the water came very clear, and at its appearance the skipper looked doleful.
“What’s the matter, Skipper?” asked Darry, seeing quickly that something was still troubling the old man.
“Why, Mr. Darry, that don’t look good to me, and that’s a fact,” the sailing master said.
“Why not? The pump is clearing her fast.”
“Is it?” grumbled Pandrick, shaking his head.
“Of course it is!” exclaimed Darry, with some exasperation. “Don’t be an Old Man of the Sea.”
“That’s exactly what I am, Mr. Darry,” said the skipper. “I’m so old a hand at sea that I’m always looking for trouble. I confess it. And I see trouble—and work for all hands—right here.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jessie, who chanced to be by. “The pump works all right just as Darry says, doesn’t it?”