"You're a jolly old wet blanket, you are," declared Darry to the sailing master. "What shall we do?"
"We'll have to take what comes to us," declared the skipper.
"You are a fatalist, Mr. Pandrick," said the minister, and Darry was glad to hear him laugh cheerily.
"No, sir. I'm a Universalist," declared the seaman. "And I've all the hope in the world that we'll come out of this all right."
"But can't we do something to help ourselves?" demanded the exasperated Darry.
"Not much that I know of. Here's hoping the wind goes down and we have calm weather and see the sun again."
"Hope all you like," growled the young fellow. "I am going to see if the girls aren't able to bring something to pass with that radio."
He found his sister and Jessie rearranging a part of the circuit on the set-board. They were very much in earnest. Thus far, however, they had been unable to get a clear signal out of the air, nor could they send one.
"If we could reach another vessel, or a shore station, and tell them where the yacht is and that she is leaking, we'd be all right, shouldn't we, Darry?" Jessie asked earnestly.
"But I am not at all sure we need help," he said, in doubt.