“Nothing else to do. Isn’t it a pity! Let’s have one more good haul first.”
All this time the wind was rapidly gaining force. The boys spent full twenty minutes, in all, struggling to release their anchor from the bottom of the sea, and then the skipper drew out his knife and hacked the manila rope through. The end disappeared over the side with a splash just as a fresh squall burst upon the sloop.
“Whew! That’s fierce!” exclaimed the elder boy. “She’ll need to be close-reefed for the job.”
More precious minutes were wasted while the reef-points were being tied. By the time the mainsail could be hauled half a gale was blowing; and though they were but a few miles from shore, the sea was rising ominously. The wind had swung round a little more to the north, making the task of beating back to Greenport more difficult. Hoping that he might fall in with a friendly tow, Jack looked around anxiously for some fishing-vessel bound on the same journey, but as luck would have it, there was nothing in sight. This gave the boy no serious concern for a while as he bore away on the starboard tack, heading about northwest toward the shore, but before long he found the sloop needed delicate handling to avoid being capsized in the squalls, which now came in rapid succession. Even with only two thirds of her usual spread of canvas, the Sea-Lark listed over dangerously under the pressure of the wind, her lee rail often being under water while her bow was pounded continually by the rising sea. The worst, however, Jack knew still lay ahead, for he must soon go about and make a wide sweep to the northeast, this taking them farther out to sea, where a much rougher time had to be anticipated. He consulted George on the problem.
“We can either turn ’round and run down the coast to Penley,” he said, “or we can take a chance and try to work our way back to the harbor. What do you think? It’s pretty rough, and as soon as we find ourselves out there we shall get a drenching, for certain.”
“Well, she’ll make it,” replied George, pluckily, though he was wet through with spume already, and this was his first experience of such weather out in the open sea. “We don’t want to funk it now, surely.”
“That’s what I think,” replied the captain; “only if you’d rather, I’m willing to make for Penley.”
“I’m game to try for Greenport, if you are,” the younger boy declared.
“All right. Here goes!” And the plunging sloop swung on the port tack, heading northeast and out to the open sea. She struggled along for fifteen minutes or so, but it then became apparent that all was not going well. To carry more sail was an impossibility, and the sloop’s maneuvers were not taking her a foot nearer harbor against wind and sea. Though awkward, the position was not alarming, for it was still possible to swing on the starboard tack again and reach the lee of the land away to the southwest of Greenport, where they would have to remain until the gale eased.
“It’s no good,” Jack declared. “Guess it’ll have to be Penley, after all. I’m getting hungry, aren’t you?”