Reefing was a difficult matter, for the boat was driving heavily and the canvas was as stiff as a board. Mostyn dared not risk lowering the sail. The little craft had to carry way to prevent her broaching-to and being swamped. It seemed incredible that in the short space of five or six minutes the hitherto calm sea should have worked up into a cauldron of crested waves and flying spindrift.
In the contest with the elements Mostyn temporized. Putting the helm up slightly and easing off the sheet, he released the pressure on the canvas sufficiently to enable Mahmed and the two lascars to take in a couple of reefs. At the same time the boat was travelling fast but was well under control.
"Let's hope it won't blow any harder," thought Peter. "She won't stand much more wind, and she'd break her back if she had to ride to a sea-anchor."
One of the lascars came aft and reported that the reefing operation was complete. Peter put the helm down to bring the boat back on her course, when, with a report of a six-pounder quick-firing gun, the tightly stretched canvas parted. Cloth after cloth was rent in rapid succession until the severed sail streamed banner-wise before the howling wind.
Somewhat to Mostyn's surprise and satisfaction the boat showed no inclination to broach-to. Possibly the fluttering canvas offered sufficient resistance to the wind to enable her to answer to the helm.
The next task was to set the jib as a trysail. It was almost useless to expect the lascars to do that. Their knowledge of boat-sailing was very elementary, having been gained in handling their native craft, and occasionally the ship's boats under regulation rig and in charge of their British officers.
Ordering Mahmed to take Miss Baird's place at the leaking patch, Peter handed the tiller over to the girl. There was no need to caution her as to what was to be done. She knew perfectly well that safety depended upon her ability to keep the boat's stern end on to the following seas.
Mostyn had no fears on that score. He knew the girl's capability in that direction by this time. Thanking his lucky stars that he was not dependent upon the indifferent seamanship of the lascars, he went for'ard with the jib which Preston had to relinquish as a covering.
In almost total darkness Peter found the head and tack of the sail. Fortunately the split mainsail was still held by the luff ropes, thus enabling him to gather in the fiercely flogging fragments and secure the lower block of the main halliards.
To the latter he bent the head of the jib. It was now a fairly easy matter to hoist the diminutive triangle of canvas and sheet it home.