“Hold on, Juarez,” cried Jim, as he saw a dark form emerge from the companionway, “here comes a big wave.”
But with the roar of the sea and the wind Juarez did not hear the warning, and had just started across the deck when under went the Sea Eagle, and a tremendous wave swept aft, submerging the bulwarks. It caught Juarez off his feet and swirled him toward the side. He would not have lived a minute in those rearing, plunging seas.
As he was swept over, he caught frantically at an iron stanchion and barely gripped it, and before he could make an effort to help himself he was submerged in the water, the sea tugging at him as though it were an hungry animal. Hardy as Juarez was, he could not help but feel a thrill of terror; it seemed as if the waves desperately clutched at him.
Jim was filled with horror when he saw Juarez apparently carried overboard. He shook off the captain’s grip; the latter thought that Jim was going to spring over after his friend, which act he knew would result in two lives being thrown away. So he leaped to the main deck. Then he saw Juarez struggling to get aboard before the next wave came. He sprang to his help and with a powerful pull yanked him in.
They braced themselves against the attack of a second wave that swept the deck and then they were “high and dry” on the bridge, drenched to the skin, but entirely safe, and none the worse for their impromptu bath.
“That was a close call, Juarez,” said Jo sympathetically.
“Another call like that and I won’t be tu hum,” replied Juarez with a grin.
“Next time take a look for’ard, lad,” said the captain, who had joined the group in the shelter of the deck house; “we could never have picked you up on a dark night like this.” Then he went back to his station on the bridge. The hardy old sailor would never have dreamed of making much ado about any accident no matter how serious. If the party came through alive, that was sufficient to show that it was not very bad. The Frontier Boys, too, had absorbed a good deal of that philosophy in the course of many dangers which they had so fortunately outlived.
When daylight came, the Sea Eagle had battered her way through the rough channel, its waters tortured by rapid currents and terrific cross seas, and was now pitching along the windward coast of the big Island of Hawaii, with its twin volcanic summits nearly fourteen thousand feet in height. It was not smooth going yet by any means, but better than during the night.
“Get up, Tom, and look at the scenery.” It was Jim’s cheerful voice, addressed to Tom, who lay pale and rather wan in his bunk.