When Thad came in later on he declared that the chances were now that the boat would hold her own during the balance of that stormy night.
"Always providing," he added, with due caution, "that it don't get any worse, and the wind shift to the northeast, which would be bad for us here."
So they started in again to try and keep watch-and-watch, one securing a little sleep while the other stood guard.
It was only a poor makeshift at best, for what Maurice called "cat-naps" were the best they could do at any time.
That night would not soon be forgotten by the boys, for it seemed to be about forty hours long.
And as time crept on at a snail pace the howling of the wintry gale continued unabated, with the roar of the wind through the tree-tops ashore, the dash of the waves on the point above, and the constant wabbling motion of the shanty-boat to remind them of their peril.
It may have been a couple of hours before the time for morning to come along that Thad, after a trip of investigation outside, returned with some news.
"Wind's shifted!" he announced, as he came staggering in again.
Maurice jumped up.
"Then we ought to get busy if we don't want to be dragged out of this comfortable pocket again!" he exclaimed.