“It’s been blowing hard all day,” said one weather-beaten skipper in reply to their inquiry. “An’ if the sloop ain’t been picked up, an’ it ain’t run into Penley, it’s long odds she’s been swamped afore now.”
Not until darkness made it difficult to pursue their search further did those on the tug return to Greenport, by which time a crowd of anxious watchers had assembled on the wharf, hoping against hope that the Simon P. Barker might bring in the eagerly anticipated news. Neither Tony nor Mr. Holden slept a wink that night, for there was always a chance that some vessel might come towing the Sea-Lark back to port.
CHAPTER XIV
CASTAWAYS
As the wild swirl of water rushed over Jack, he clung desperately to the handle of the sloop’s pump. The vessel staggered under her load, but righted herself bravely.
“Are you there?” the boy spluttered, as soon as he could breathe once more. It was too dark to see anything.
“I—I think so,” came back the mate’s voice. “I didn’t expect to be, though. We don’t want much more of that stuff!”
The hours dragged along with leaden heels. Twice again during the night the sloop almost foundered beneath a terrible blow, but each time managed to right herself. It seemed to the distressed lads almost a week of darkness must have passed before a faint blur of light appeared in the eastern sky. When dawn began to approach Jack had arrived at that state of physical exhaustion when further effort was almost intolerable, but the sight of returning daylight, with the possibilities it brought of being sighted, filled him anew with life. Then, a little later, his eyes opened wide with blank surprise.
“Why—why, where are we?” he exclaimed.
The boys stared into the half-gloom away to the west. The roar of surf was distinct above the rushing wind, and as the light increased it was possible for the lads to make out a line of broken water less than half a mile away.