As we had determined not to be defeated, we continued beating backwards and forwards until we saw the coast of Cornwall, and the bright beams of Saint Agnes’ Lighthouse appeared on our port-bow; while those from the light-vessel moored off the Seven Stones were seen on the other.
We hailed the Dolphin, which passed us on the opposite tack; and papa agreed to lead in; “The sooner we are in the harbour the better,” he observed; “I don’t quite like the look of the weather.”
Clouds had, indeed, been thickly gathering in the south-west; and the stars, which had hitherto shone brightly, were totally obscured. The wind also, which had been steady, now began to blow in strong squalls, compelling us to shorten sail. First, two reefs were taken down in the mainsail; it was then closely-reefed, while the foresail was hauled down, and the storm jib set. Still, it was as much as the cutter could do to look up to it. Heavy seas now began to roll in from the Atlantic, tumbling the cutter about. Now she rose to the summit of a foam-crested wave, now she sank down into the hollow.
“Will she ever come up again?” exclaimed Dick, who was clinging on to the companion hatch. “Oh, dear—oh, dear! I thought the sea was always going to remain as smooth as it has been since we sailed.”
Presently, up we rose again, and Dick drew a long breath. Papa, however, advised him to go below.
“We will look after the craft in the meantime, my boy,” he said. “There is nothing to fear, though it is possible that one of these seas may break on board, and if you are not on the look-out, may carry you away.”
A flash of lightning which now burst forth from a dark cloud, accompanied by a heavy squall, causing the cutter to heel over until her lee bulwarks were almost under water, revealed Dick’s terrified countenance. As may be supposed, he clung on the harder to the companion hatch; and papa had to repeat his advice and help him down the ladder.
“You’d better go too, Harry,” he said. “I can’t answer for a sea not coming on board; and it might tear even you from your hold. Those who remain on deck will secure themselves with lashings; and as the craft is as light as a cork, we shall weather out the gale, even should it come on to blow twice as hard as it now does.”
I begged to be allowed to remain.
“Well, it will be but a summer gale. You may stay on deck; but here, make yourself fast with this rope;” and papa secured one round my body, which he fastened to the companion hatch.