“How is that channel into the harbor which you told me about?” asked the captain, turning to Jim. “Do you think we can get through it?”
“If the day were fair, and the engine was working it might be done,” replied Jim. “But under sail in this wind it will be a hazard, sir.”
“You are not thinking of attempting that passage in a storm, are you?” asked the professor, in evident alarm.
“I don’t think there is much choice in the matter,” confessed the captain. “We may go to pieces if we try it, and we are pretty certain to go to pieces if we don’t.”
The yacht was now rolling and pitching on the heavy seas, and the blasts of wind were becoming stronger and more angry, whistling through the rigging with the shrill sound of a gigantic fife.
“Shall we take in another reef?” shouted the mate.
“No. Put two men at the wheel and tell them to work lively! Jim, a few words with you.”
A brief conference followed, then taking his station amidship, with Jim well forward, the captain shouted his orders to the sailors and helmsmen. Jim signaled by means of a pocket handkerchief in his hand, facing first the course of the channel, and at intervals looking toward the captain. Every motion was correctly interpreted by the commander.
“The helm to the port side! Port your helm! Jam it down hard! Haul in the main sheet; haul close! Quick now! In with the lugger and jib!” The captain was hurling his orders so quickly that his words tripped over one another.
The men sprang to obey the commands. The yacht meanwhile entered the channel between the cliffs and was driving headlong for the rocks ahead which presaged a certain end to its career. But just as the fatal crash seemed imminent and unavoidable, the bow swung around, and with the end of the boom buried in the foam of the breaking waves the Storm King glided into the deeper waters that opened to the right.