Instantly, there was a wild rush on deck. A scene of confusion met their eyes. The helmsman had let the yacht gybe all standing, and before he could check the main sheet the boom had flown violently against the set-up runners on the starboard side. The sudden shock had carried away that part of the gear, and the strain was thrown upon the mast. It had parted fifteen feet above the deck, letting mainsail and headsails down in utter confusion. The mizzen, being still set, was tending to turn the yacht head to wind, with the trailing canvas dragging over the bows.
It was not an occasion to demand or receive explanations. The first thing to be done was to get the yacht under control.
Under the Scoutmaster's directions, the broken-off portion of the mast was parbuckled on board and secured, and the headsails recovered and stowed. The next step was to set up temporary halliards and shrouds on the fractured mast, a difficult business owing to the erratic motion of the yacht.
Working quickly and well, Desmond and Findlay succeeded in passing three strops round the top of the broken mast and shackling blocks to them—two for'ard and one aft. Then the shrouds, shortened by means of sheepshanks, were sent aloft and secured sufficiently to take up a considerable amount of strain.
"Now we can set the headsail," announced Mr. Graham. "Take two reefs in the staysail, or you won't get it right home; and set No. 2 jib."
All hands were so busy that they failed to notice the approach of a steam drifter until she gave a warning blast on her syren. Slowing down, she drew within twenty yards of the Spindrift.
"Want a tow into Weymouth?" shouted her skipper.
Mr. Graham had to decide quickly. On the one hand he was responsible for the safety of the lads under his charge; on the other he did not like the idea of "chucking up the sponge" so quickly, especially as he would have to pay for the salvage. He glanced to wind'ard; the breeze was fair. The barometer was high and steady. It was a strong temptation when he looked from the disabled Spindrift to the powerful steam drifter.
"How much?" he asked.
"Twenty-five p'un," shouted the skipper.