His relief was short-lived, however. They had escaped the fury of the billows outside but it was rough enough behind the key and high seas tumbled and rolled around the boats.
He glanced back to see how it fared with the schooner. What he saw made him leap for the straining tow line, whipping out his sheath-knife as he sprang. One stroke severed the taut rope, and, relieved of the drag, the "Dixie" leaped ahead like a frightened deer.
CHAPTER XXIII.
SALVAGE HUNTERS.
On board the schooner all was excitement and confusion. Nearly awash as she already was the first big wave had swept her from stem to stern. Her frightened negro crew had quickly sprung into the rigging yelling at the top of their voices. Only the solemn, lanky, old captain remained impassive. He still stood at his post, by the wheel, peering over his big, horn-rimmed spectacles, sizing up the situation with shrewd, calculating eyes.
A second wave struck and swept over, and then a third.
"She's sinking," Walter shouted.
Slowly the doomed craft settled down, down until her bulwarks lay even with the water, then stopped.
"She is not going to sink," Charley exclaimed, as he saw her stop in her downward course.