A great flood wave was charging down the canyon, filling it from side to side, the center of it bulging and boiling forward in foam. It was a terrific sight.
"Roll the stern anchor forward," yelled Jim.
The wave was a quarter of a mile away, coming down upon us with devouring fury.
"Defy the dragon, will you?" it seemed to roar. "You are caught in its jaws now. No escape."
Jim looked at it with a sneer of set teeth.
"We'll show you," he yelled. "You can't beat us, curse you!"
"Draw in the oars," he commanded, "into the bows; use the poles."
It was almost upon us. The stern began to lift upwards.
"Stand by to repel boarders." These were the last words we could hear. Then we were swallowed up in a tumult of roaring, foaming water, whirled downward like a straw in the furious onset of the flood.
By throwing all the weight to the bow we had kept from being swamped. Our high, strong sides saved us for the moment. If anything could stand the fury of that charge "The Captain" could. Powerful, braced like an ironclad, unsinkable.