And so the long, dreary day dragged away. Time and again boats drove past them, scudding before the gale, and once a large steamer passed them almost within hailing distance. But no attempt at rescue could be made in such a sea.
Night found them still drifting almost too weak and weary to care what happened next.
"I believe the wind is going down a little," Charley said, shortly after the sun had set.
"It is," the old sailor agreed, "but I'm afraid it isn't going down fast enough to help us much. I noticed before dark that our sea anchor is going to pieces. If it once goes and we swing into the trough of the seas, we are goners."
But the old sailor had done his work well and the sea anchor did not give way as he feared, instead, it held stoutly together while they drifted on into the night.
As the hours crept slowly away it became evident, beyond a doubt, that the wind was steadily going down, and with it the sea, although the waves still ran dangerously high.
They were beginning to gain fresh hope and courage even in their suffering condition when the unexpected happened.
It was Walter that saw it first,—a dark wall rising high up in the darkness directly in their path. They could do nothing to avert the danger, only sit and stare dully at the looming mass. As they drove down upon it they saw that it was a forest of great trees rising, apparently, right out of the water.
Swiftly the doomed launch drifted down on the submerged forest.
When a hundred feet away the captain roused to action. "Here's a rope," he cried. "Each of you grab hold of it and cling on for life."