“There is a leak, indeed,” said Clark, returning; “but nothing to make a work about.”
“An ugly sea that!” said the old quartermaster; “that greenhorn at the helm has wet me into the skin. You rascal, why don’t you ease the ship into the sea? If you carry on in that manner, you will soon send us all to another place of worship.”
“Do you intend, sir,” said he, addressing himself to Harry, “to stand long on this tack?”
“Yes,” replied Harry; “the ship will labour less on this tack than on the other; and besides, it is best to get as much sea-room as possible.”
“Had we not better run into the Fairway?” said the quartermaster; “we are sure of getting shelter under the Big Fern; and I know the coast well, for I was brought up in these parts.”
“That’s a good idea,” observed Harry.
“But a lee-shore is a dangerous place in a stormy night,” added Clark.
“Oh, never fear the lee-shore—I’ll pilot you in safety; besides, the lights will direct us.”
“Very well,” said Harry; “as the wind does not at all seem inclined to take off, we had better do as you say; and do you, Clark, take some men and clew up the foresail. Keep her away, my lad,” shouted he to the man at the wheel. “So, so—steady. Ready there with the boom-foresail halyards.”
“All ready, sir.”