“That is all; but you will find it enough, because the sea will seem to fight you. It will shake the boat to make you leave go, and will perhaps dash in your face to make you leave go.” “Forewarned, forearmed, Mr. Dodd. I will not let go. I will hold on by my eyelids sooner than add to your danger.” “Jack, she is on fire; she gives me double heart.” “So she does me. She makes it a pleasure.” They were now near enough the point to judge what they had to do, and the appearance of the sea was truly terrible; the waves were all broken, and a surge of devouring fire seemed to rage and roar round the point, and oppose an impassable barrier between them and the inky pool beyond, where safety lay under the lee of the high rocks. “I don't like it,” said David. “It looks to me like going through a strip of hell fire.” “But it is narrow,” said Lucy. “That is our chance; and the tide is coming in. We will try it. She will drench us, but I don't much think she will swamp us. Are you ready, all hands?” “Oh! please wait a minute, till I do up my hair.” “Take a minute, but no more.” “There, it is done. Mr. Dodd, one word. If all should fail, and death be inevitable, tell me so just before we perish, and I shall have something to say to you. Now, I am ready.” “Jump forward, Jack.” “Yes, sir.” “Stand by to jibe the foresail.” “Ay, ay, sir.” “See our sweeps all clear.” “Ay.” David now handled the main sheet, and at the same time looked earnestly at Lucy, who met his eye with a look of eager attention. “Starboard a little. That will do. Steady--steady as you go,” As the boat yielded to the helm, Jack gathered in on the sheet, took two turns round the cleat, and eased away till the sail drew its best: so far so good. Both sails were now on the same side of the boat, the wind on her port quarter; but now came the dangerous operation of coming to the wind, in a rough and broken sea, among the eddies of wind and tide so prevalent off headlands. David, with the main sheet in his right hand, directed Lucy with his left as well as his voice. “Starboard the helm--starboard yet--now meet her--so!” and, as she rounded to Jack and he kept hauling the sheets aft, and the boat, her course and trim altered, darted among the breakers like a brave man attacking danger. After the first plunge she went up and down like a pickax, coming down almost where she went up; but she held her course, with the waves roaring round her like a pack of hell-hounds. More than half the terrible strip was passed. “Starboard yet,” cried David; and she headed toward the high mainland under whose lee was calm and safety. Alas! at this moment a snorter of a sea broke under her broadside, and hove her to leeward like a cork, and a tide eddy catching her under the counter, she came to more than two points, and her canvas, thus emptied, shook enough to tear the masts out of her by the board.