The minister knew that they were in peril. He would have been glad to see a rescuing vessel heave into sight. But he gave no sign that he considered the situation at all uncertain or perilous in the least.
The afternoon was passing. Another night on the open sea without knowing if the yacht would weather the conditions, was a matter for grave consideration. The doctor and Darry conferred with Skipper Pandrick.
"'Tis hard to say," the sailing master observed. "There is no knowing what may happen. If the yacht was not so water-logged we might get in under our own steam——"
"But we can't make steam enough!" cried Darry.
"Well, no, we don't seem to," admitted the skipper.
"And to what port would you sail?" asked Dr. Stanley.
"Well, now, there's not any handy just now, I admit. If we head back for the land we may be thrown on our beam-ends, I will say. The waves are big ones, as you see."
"You are not very encouraging, Skipper," said the minister.
"I wouldn't be raising any false hopes in your mind, sir," said Pandrick.