When night gathered, the coast was not in 243 sight. The Spot Cash was tossing somewhere offshore in a rising gale and dared not venture in. The wind continued in the southeast. The coast was a lee shore––all rocks and islands and cliffs. The Spot Cash must beat out again to sea and wait for the morning. Any attempt to make a harbour of that harsh shore in the dark would spell destruction. But the sea was hardly more hospitable. The Spot Cash, reefed down almost to bare poles, and standing out as best she could, tossed and plunged in the big black seas, with good heart, to be sure, but, presently, with small hope. It seemed to Bill o’ Burnt Bay that the little craft would be broken and swamped.
The boys came aft from forward and amidships. All at once Archie, who had been staring into the night ahead, started, turned and uttered an ejaculation of dismay, which a gust of wind drove into the skipper’s ear.
“What is it, b’y?” Skipper Bill roared.
“I forgot to insure her,” shouted Archie.
Skipper Bill grinned.
“It’s ruin if we wreck, Bill,” Archie shouted again.
It looked to Bill o’ Burnt Bay like wreck and death. If so, the ruin might take care of itself. 244 It pleased him to know that Archie was still unconcerned about his life. He reflected that if the Spot Cash should by any chance survive he would tell Sir Archibald that story. But a great sea and a smothering blast of wind distracted him. The sea came clear over the bow and broke amidships; the wind fairly drove the breath back into the skipper’s throat. There would be two more seas he knew: there were always three seas. The second would break in a moment; the third would swamp the schooner. He roared a warning to the boys and turned the wheel to meet the sea bow on. The big wave fell with a crash amidships; the schooner stopped and shivered while a torrent of water drove clear over the stern. Bill o’ Burnt Bay saw the crest of the third sea grow white and tower in the night.
“Hang to her!” screamed Archie.
Skipper Bill smiled grimly as the sea came aboard. It broke and swept past. He expected no more; but more came––more and still more. The schooner was now tossing in a boiling pot from which the spray rose like steam. Bill caught the deep boom of breakers. The Spot Cash was somewhere inshore. The water was 245 shallowing. She was fairly on the rocks. Again Bill shouted a warning to the boys to save themselves when she struck. He caught sight of a low cliff––a black shadow above a mass of moving, ghostly white. The schooner was lifted by a great sea and carried forward. Skipper Bill waited for the shock and thud of her striking. He glanced up at the spars––again screamed a warning––and stood rigid. On swept the schooner. She was a long time in the grip of that great wave.
Then she slipped softly out of the rough water into some placid place where the wind fluttered gently down from above.