"I knew I was right," said Peter. "She's sinking fast, and they're trying to run her into shallow water."
"Do you think we can get to her in time?"
"We must do our best."
The mainsail ought to have had the last reef taken in, for the mast bent like a whip, and the dinghy plunged heavily; but it was a time for driving, if ever there was one.
"Look! look!" screamed Randall.
"Too late!" cried Peter.
The schooner, now half a mile away from them, made a great lurch forward, threw her stern into the air, and settled down head first. The top of her broken foremast protruded some ten feet above the surface.
"No, we're not too late!" shouted Randall.
"Right you are!" ejaculated Peter.