"They've got a jam!" he announced. "It'll take another five minutes to clear it, and then they'll be much too late. Up with the masts!"
Considering it was the first time they had stepped the masts in that particular boat the task was accomplished fairly smartly.
"Up foresail," ordered the Third Officer.
Jasper Minalto sprang forward to assist Mostyn to hoist the somewhat awkward dipping lug. When the canvas was sheeted home the boat seemed to leap forward under the quartering breeze.
"That'll do for the present," said Alwyn. "She'll steer better like that until we're clear of the reef. Come aft; we want her trimmed by the stern going through—no, not you, Miss Vivian. You'll do nicely where you are. Are you quite comfortable?"
"Quite, thank you," was the cheerful reply, given in a tone which implied that, having been under fire twice within the last month, the discomfort of sitting upon a pile of canvas on the bottom-boards counted for naught.
"Right-o," continued Alwyn. "Directly we gain the open sea we'll rig you up some sort of tent."
"But I'm not at all tired," protested Hilda.
"You will be before morning," rejoined the Third Officer. "We've a very long way to go, you know, and there are no rugs, hot-water bottles, or Thermos flasks aboard this packet."
With that observation Burgoyne glanced ahead under the foot of the bellying sail. He could now discern the gap in the reef, bearing roughly a couple of points on the starboard bow.