“Breakers ahead!” roared Bunks.
This new danger—the most terrible, with perhaps the exception of fire, to which a seaman can be exposed—caused all hands to forget the past in the more awful present. The helm was put down, the schooner flew up into the wind, and sheered close past a mass of leaping, roaring foam, the sight of which would have caused the stoutest heart to quail.
“Keep her close hauled,” shouted Job, who stood on the heel of the bowsprit looking out ahead.
“D’ye think it’s the North Foreland?” asked Bunks, who stood beside him.
“I s’pose it is,” said Job, “but how it comes to be on our lee bow, with the wind as it is, beats me out and out. Anyhow, I’ll keep her well off the land,—mayhap run for the coast of Norway. They’re not so partikler about inquiries there, I’m told.”
“I’ll tell ye what it is, Bunks,” said Tommy, who had gone forward and overheard the last observation, but could not bring himself to speak to Job, “you may depend on it we’re out of our course; as sure as you stand there the breakers we have just passed are the north end of the Goodwin Sands. If we carry on as we’re going now, and escape the sands, we’ll find ourselves on the coast o’ France, or far down the Channel in the morning.”
“Thank’ee for nothin’,” said Job, with a sneer; “next time ye’ve got to give an opinion wait till it’s axed for, an’ keep well out o’ the reach o’ my arm, if ye don’t want to keep company with the skipper.”
Tommy made no reply to this. He did not even look as if he had heard it; but, addressing himself to Bunks, repeated his warning.
Bunks was disposed to attach some weight to it at first, but as the compass was destroyed he had no means of ascertaining the truth of what was said, and as Job laughed all advice to scorn, and had taken command of the vessel, he quietly gave in.
They soon passed the breakers, and went away with the lee-gunwale dipping in the water right down the Channel. Feeling relieved from immediate danger, the murderer once more attempted to catch Tommy, but without success. He then went below, and soon after came on deck with such a flushed face and wild unsteady gaze, that it was evident to his companions he had been at the spirit locker. Jim was inclined to rebel now, but he felt that Job was more than a match for him and Bunks. Besides, he was the best seaman of the three.