He filled and lit another pipe, and continued his walk.
It was now grey dawn, and the wind continued still to increase. Captain Drew was in no way uneasy about the wind or the sea. She was equal to it all, and much more, if the rudder-head only held. Although the wind had now double the force it had when he ordered in the flying-jib and ordered down the gaff-topsails, so skilfully had sail been reduced, and so free from anything like squall had been the gale, that she had never been more than a plank or two under to leeward. Water was now coming over the weather-side in bucketfals; and now and then the schooner plunged her nose under a big sea, and washed her decks fore and aft.
It was a dismal daybreak. The sky was all overcast with low-flying grey clouds, the sea a tangled maze of irregular billows. As day advanced there was no encouraging element in the scene. No land, no vessel, was in sight. All looked void and purposeless. The water and the air were given up to the tempest, and the schooner seemed an impertinence the presence of which air and water resented with deadly hatred.
Still, dreary as the dawn. Captain Drew preferred it to the night. He kept the deck. He was resolved to carry out his determination of not going below until the Seabird was safely at anchor in Silver Bay. It was now between two and three, and, if all went well, and all had been going well, he might, in reason, hope to be in smooth water in less than a dozen hours.
Every half hour, as morning grew into day, he paused and examined that rudder-head. It held admirably to all appearances. He could discover no sign of any weakness, of any working, of any giving out. He rubbed his hands once more in satisfaction. He now felt assured the rudder would last until they had reached security. Of course there was no great strain on the steering-gear. It was not as if they had been tacking up a narrow river, where they had to come about every few minutes. A couple of spokes to port now, a couple of spokes to starboard at another moment, sufficed to keep her on her course. He should not have to put any strain on the tiller until they ported to enter the bay; that was, of course, provided they did not encounter very much worse weather or the danger of a collision. As soon as he saw anything he would be able to tell better how they were, but he calculated that they would fetch Silver Bay on this reach without changing the course a point; and he ought to know if anyone did, for it was not the first nor the fiftieth northeast wind he had run away on in this same yacht Seabird.
When he was getting that new rudder made, there was one thing he would be certain not to have like the old one: there should be no sacrifice of strength to appearance. If there were to be interior angles, there should be exterior angles also.
All this while the silent invisible foe was slowly, but surely, working its way upwards.
At eight o'clock the Marquis came on deck, and was informed of the way in which the night had gone over, and that Captain Drew hoped to let go anchor in Silver Bay at about two o'clock that afternoon, if the wind kept steadily as it now was, and the sea did not get very much worse. The Duke did not come on deck. He feared to face the bitter air.
As the day grew the wind and sea rose considerably, until the gale became a storm, and the Seabird had not a single dry inch of deck. The rudder held bravely, although it now had to contend against hardships which the captain had not foreseen for it a couple of hours ago.
At noon they made out land under the port-bow; and by what Captain Drew could see he knew he was right in his calculation, and that the yacht would, on her present course, sail almost into the bay.