He got no further. A large form loomed up in the darkness. There was one grinding, smashing crash, and then came a shock that split the light-built sloop from stem to stern.
All of the boys were hurled into the boiling sea. But none was hurt; and, coming to the surface, all struggled to cling to the wreckage floating about, meanwhile crying loudly for help.
When they were picked up they were thoroughly exhausted, and Carl lost his senses completely.
The ship that had run them down was the Golden Cross. The captain's name was Savage, and he was bound for the Bermudas.
He refused to stop anywhere to put the boys off, saying he had not the time to do so.
In reality he was afraid he would be brought to account for wrecking the sloop.
He would not believe that Mont and Carl were rich, and that their parents would willingly pay him for any trouble he might take on their behalf.
"I'll keep 'em on board and make 'em work their passage," he said to his mate, a mean chap by the name of Slog. "We are rather short of hands."
A night's rest did wonders for the boys.
By morning the storm cleared off, and the Golden Cross proceeded swiftly on her way, favored by a good breeze.