Part 29 (1/2)

CHAPTER XIX.

PAUL TAKES COMMAND OF THE FLYAWAY.

”Help us, Paul, if you can,” cried Tom, as the prisoners rushed up the ladder. ”You take the helm, d.i.c.k.”

”Me!” exclaimed the steward. ”I don't know no more about handling a vessel than I do about making a watch. Paul must help you.”

”Forgive me, Paul, for shutting you up down there, and get us out of this sc.r.a.pe if you can.”

At this moment the keel of the Flyaway grazed upon a rock, and then b.u.mped heavily as she sank down with the sea.

”We are lost! We shall all be drowned!” exclaimed Frank Thompson.

Paul's quick eye instantly measured the peril that menaced the Flyaway, and though she continued to thump and grind on the rocks at the bottom, he did not lose all hope of saving her. The first thing was to secure the jib sheet. Seizing the guy rope which was used to haul out the main boom, he ordered all hands forward. At the end of the line there was a large iron hook, which, with a dexterous throw, he succeeded in fastening to the block. The sail was then hauled down, and the truant sheet effectually secured.

The coast line, upon which they were in danger of being dashed to pieces, extended northeast and southwest, and the yacht was still some twenty rods distant from the breakers. Paul ordered the jib to be hauled hard up on the weather side, which caused the vessel's head to swing round with the wind; then, as the sheet was eased off, she slid over the rock, and for a moment ran down parallel with the coast, and before the wind.

When this manoeuvre had been successfully accomplished, Paul ran to the helm, and giving the necessary orders, the Flyaway was soon braced sharp up, and standing away from the breakers.

”Three cheers for Paul Duncan!” shouted Tom Nettle, when he realized that they had escaped the terrible fate which a moment before had hung over them. ”One!”

”Hold your tongue, Tom!” replied Paul, sharply. ”Try the pump, and see whether she leaks any.”

The cheers were not given in the face of this sharp rebuke, and Tom hastened to obey the order which Paul had just issued. The examination revealed the gratifying fact that the Flyaway was still sound, and made no water. She had only b.u.mped a few times in deep water with the action of the waves.

”You can take the helm again, Tom,” said Paul, when the survey was completed. ”If you wish to make me a prisoner again, I will go below.”

”I do not,” replied Tom.

”I am not one of your number, but I should like to ask what you intend to do?”

”We calculated to go to Portland,” replied the chief of the conspiracy.

”To Portland?”

”That is what we intended.”

”That is not what you told us,” said one of the boys. ”You said you would only run out a little way, and return before Captain Gordon got back.”

”That was only to get your consent to the plan, you spoonies,” said Frank.

”You are smart sailors, I must confess,” replied Paul, with a sneer. ”It was easy enough to get out of the harbor, but not so easy to get back again.”

”We depended upon you,” said Tom.

”Did you, indeed? Do you expect me to join in such a miserable sc.r.a.pe as this?”

”We will do just what you say now.”

”Will you? You are very kind. After you have got into a difficulty you can't get out of you want me to join the company. You expect me to pilot you down to Portland--don't you?”