Part 20 (1/2)
CHAPTER XIII.
PAUL MAKES A NIGHT RUN IN THE STORM.
”John, John!” shouted Paul, when he realized the dangerous situation of the Fawn.
But the first mate of the craft slept too soundly to be disturbed by mere words, and the skipper had to shake him before he came to his senses.
”What is the matter, Paul?” asked he, as soon as he could get his eyes open and realize where he was.
”Put on your greatcoat and shoes, and come out here and be lively about it,” cried Paul.
John obeyed, and before he was ready to join Paul in the standing room, he began to apprehend the state of affairs on board, for the furious wind and the angry waves that stormed against the hull and rigging of the Fawn told their own story.
”What's the trouble?” he asked, as he joined his brother.
”Don't you see there is a gale of wind down upon us?” replied Paul, sharply.
”Well, what of it?” demanded the young salt, with provoking indifference.
”A good deal of it; the boat has dragged her anchor, and at this rate will be upon the rocks in fifteen minutes! Come, be alive, and don't stand there like a log.”
”What shall I do? You are the skipper, and I am ready to do anything you say,” replied John, who was by this time fully awake.
”Can we pay out any more cable?”
But this was a useless question, for Paul knew very well that the cable was all out. Our young readers may not all understand the meaning of Paul's question. If the vessel rides at anchor with a short cable, her motion, as she rises and falls with the sea, raises up the shaft of the anchor, which has a tendency to detach the flukes, or points from the bottom. But Paul had been careful the night before to give the Fawn all the cable he could spare; and it was evident, therefore, that the anchor was not heavy enough, or that there was no holding-ground at the bottom.
”There is only one thing we can do, John,” said Paul, desperately, after he had fully examined the situation of the boat.
”Say on, then,” replied John; ”I am ready for anything that you say.”
”We must get up the anchor, and leave this place.”
”Up it is, then.”
”But this is an awful bad time, and an awful bad place to hoist a sail.”
”Let her drive; we shall go it well enough. It blows like all-possessed: but what's the use of having a life boat, if you can't go out in her when it blows?”
”Stand by the fore halliards, then,” cried Paul. ”The sail is close-reefed, just as we used it yesterday.”
The foresail was hoisted, and slammed with tremendous fury in the fresh gale. The boys then grasped the cable, and it required the full effort of their united strength to weigh the anchor; but the task was accomplished at last, and Paul leaped to his place at the helm. Laying her course parallel with the sh.o.r.e of the island, the Fawn dashed over the furious waves, within ten rods' distance from the breakers on the beach. In a few moments she pa.s.sed beyond the reach of this peril, and rushed out among the billows of the open bay.
It was a fearful night even for strong men to venture upon the stormy sea; it was doubly perilous for these two boys; yet they had no choice, for to avoid a greater danger they had chosen the less. But the Fawn behaved in a very gallant manner, and her n.o.ble bearing promised to achieve all that could be done for the safety of the young fishermen.
Notwithstanding the violence of the gale, she rested buoyantly on the top of the waves, and did not seem to labor in her course.
”Do you know where you are, Paul?” asked his brother, after they had sat in silence for half an hour.