In desperate haste the whole contraption was hove overboard. The yard and sail, weighed down by the kedge, sank like a stone.
The next instant, with a weird, almost blood-curdling shriek, the squall burst. In an instant the hitherto placid surface of the ocean was lashed into an expanse of white foam.
Caught fairly on the broadside the life-boat was knee deep in water before she took up the strain of the sea-anchor. Then riding to a tautened cable she swung round bows on to the now threatening breakers.
The three men baled desperately. Hilda, too, realizing the importance of freeing the boat from water, plied an empty bully-beef tin vigorously. Her straw hat had been whisked off, although Mostyn had caught it as it swept to leeward; her short locks were streaming in the wind, spray lashed her face like the sting of a whip, yet in the wild display of Nature's elements her faith in the prowess and skill of the three men was undiminished. Without a trace of fear she was toiling, not because she thought she was in danger, but because she knew she could be of assistance to her companions.
In ten minutes the worst was over. The wind dropped considerably, and though the waves were not running exactly mountains high, they had quite a menacing appearance. Yet the sea-anchor, which was now only a few feet below the surface, and fifty yards ahead of the boat, broke the angry seas in a way that imparted confidence to all hands.
It was an hour later before Burgoyne thought it prudent to rehoist sail. The mizzen, close-reefed, was first hoisted and sheeted home. Then the foresail got inboard, single-reefed and set. The boat's head fell away, then gathering way she darted buoyantly over the long, crested waves.
Contrary to Alwyn's expectations the wind had neither veered nor backed. It blew strongly from the same quarter, which meant that for every mile made good the boat had to sail thrice that distance.
For the rest of the day they sailed close-hauled, tacking at the end of every hour. All three men knew how to get the best out of the boat, keeping her sufficiently full to allow the canvas to draw well.
Sunset came with every indication of bad weather. The sun sank behind a bank of copper-coloured clouds, while the sky resembled what Minalto described as a "basin o' pea-soup".
"We're in for it, I think," remarked Burgoyne to Mostyn. "I think we'd better close reef the foresail while it's light. Then you take first watch—two hours only this time, mind; I'll take the next, and Minalto carries on after me. That will give you four hours' sleep."