"Pull in your oar, Perce!" he called out. Percy obeyed gladly. A heavy sea struck the dory. She reared, shot back, and started to swing sidewise. Then the "drug" caught her, and she seesawed again up into the wind and rode springily. The tub, filled with water, and drifting on its side thirty feet before the bow at the end of the straightened-out painter, formed a floating anchor, which held the dory head to the wind and sea. Practically submerged, and offering the gale no surface to get hold of, it moved much more slowly than the high-sided boat, and so retarded its course. Jim came crawling aft again. "Guess that'll hold her!" he exclaimed. "I've strengthened the lanyard with some ground-line, and it ought to last us through the night. We'll be as snug as if we were in Sprowl's Cove, hey, Perce?" Percy could hardly agree with him. The roaring, rain-shot blackness, roofed with murky clouds and floored with rushing surges, was not calculated to inspire confidence in a landsman. With every sea the dory leaped back several feet, until the straightened painter brought her up. Showers of spray flew over the boys. It was well both were clad in oilskins. They were not entirely without light. The water was firing. Every breaking wave dissolved in phosphorescence. The tub before the bow was outlined in radiance; the whipping painter was transmuted to a rope of silver; and as the dory split the crashing rollers they streamed away in sparkles of ghostly flame. Even in their peril the boys could not help appreciating the weird beauty of the display. "Wonderful, isn't it?" said Percy. "Say, Jim, how far south's the nearest land?" "Somewhere around two thousand miles, I guess. Too far to interest us any. I think it's one of the West Indies." The wind was growing stronger, the sea rougher. Now and then a young flood set both boys bailing, Jim with the bucket, Percy with the scoop. "Won't do to let it gain too much on us," remarked Jim. "She can't sink; but if she should fill it'd be pretty uncomfortable." The rain had ceased; the clouds did not hang so low. Suddenly Percy gave a whoop of joy. "Look in the west!" Not far above the horizon appeared a rift of clear blue sky, sown with stars. Longer and wider it grew. Other rifts added themselves to it, and in an unbelievably short time the entire heaven was swept clean. But somehow the wind seemed to blow harder than before. "How soon will it calm down?" asked Percy. Jim shook his head. "Can't say! May be a dry blow for two days longer." He looked eastward. "What's that coming? Steamer?" Sure enough it was. Below the white light on the masthead appeared and disappeared the red and green, obscured intermittently by the tossing waves. Soon they could be seen all the time. Percy began to grow excited. "Suppose they'll pick us up?"