When next I became conscious of anything there was at least two inches of water under my back, and the spray was coming over the starboard side at a rate that threatened speedily to founder the little craft. Jerry, being in the bow which stood higher out of the water, had not been disturbed. "What's the matter?" I asked in alarm, crawling out from under the thwarts with no little difficulty. "Matter? Nothin' as I knows of," Bill Jepson said as if surprised that I should have asked such a question. "What made you think anything was wrong?" "Why we're half full of water, man, and if it keeps coming in at this rate it'll soon be a case of swimming!" "It's a bit dusty, that's all; but the canoe is doin' her work like a lady. We're well nigh across the Potomac, an' just a hummin'." The day was breaking, and in the gray light of early dawn I could see the little craft laboring under her rag of a sail in a manner that sent my heart into my mouth, although I'm not given to being timorous on the water. "We must get in some of that sail," I cried, forced to yell at the full strength of my lungs in order to be heard above the rollicking sea song in which Bill Jepson was pouring forth his musical soul. "Let her go as she is; I'll answer for it that no harm will be done." Bill said with a laugh as he cut short his song. "We wouldn't be in as good shape with the paddles, an' that's a fact." By this time Jerry had awakened, and he, like me, had the idea that we were storming through it at a hotter pace than the canoe could safely stand; but the sailor insisted that nothing was wrong, although he did suggest it might be a good idea if we baled the craft a bit, and we were forced to act upon his advice in order to save ourselves from being swamped. The canoe rode more easily when the liquid load had been taken from her, and I came to the conclusion that perhaps it might be as well to let Bill Jepson have his way since we were cutting down the miles in great shape, and speed was the one thing necessary for us just at that time. We were forced to use the baling dishes about every ten minutes before crossing the mouth of the river, and then the little craft made better weather of it, to the great relief of both us lads. No one would ever have suspected that Bill Jepson was a deserter who would surely be hanged if the Britishers caught him. He sang, told stories of a wild and terrible kind, mimicked the officers of the Narcissus, and explained what the Americans would do when the enemy came up the bay, going into the details of the naval maneuvers as if perfectly familiar with all the defenses, instead of being wholly ignorant of everything connected with the war save from an English standpoint. It was not a very appetizing breakfast which we had that morning, for the food, stowed in the stern of the boat, was soaked with water; but to lads who had never been accustomed to luxuries a little thing like fasting did not seem to be of much importance.