"'Tis gainin' on me fast, sir," said Billy.
"Give way! Give way!" cried the skipper.
The bow of the schooner swung round inch by inch—so slowly that the sinking of the boat seemed inevitable.
"She'll sink, sir!" said Billy, in alarm, but still bailing steadily.
"Pull! Pull!"
When the schooner was once more in her old position—stern foremost, and driving slowly through the passage—the water was within an inch of the seats of the boat, which was now heavy and almost unmanageable. Twenty fathoms of water lay between the boat and the bow of the schooner.
"She's goin' down, sir!" said Billy.
"Cast lines!" the skipper shouted to those aboard.
Water curled over the gunwales. The boat stopped dead, and wavered, on the point of sinking. Two lines came whizzing towards her, uncoiling in their flight. The one was caught by the first hand, who threw himself into the water and was hauled aboard. Billy and the skipper caught the other. With its help and a few strong strokes they made the bow chains and clambered to the deck.
"She's drivin' finely," said the skipper, when he had looked around. "Stand by, there, an' be ready with the fores'l! We'll soon be through."