Adventure stories; Puget Sound Region (Wash.) -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
They got the sail up somehow, though by the time they had finished the
sloop's lee rail was in the sea, and then flung themselves upon the
mainsail. They were breathless with the effort before they had tied two
reefs in it, and Frank wondered at the change in their surroundings when
at length he sat down in the well.
The sea, which had run in long and almost smooth undulations before they
began to reef, now splashed and seethed about the boat, and each big
slope of water was seamed with innumerable smaller ridges. Bitter spray
was flying thick in the air, water already sluiced about the deck, and
it was disconcerting to recollect that they were still eight miles from
the inlet. This would not have mattered so much had it not lain dead to
windward, which meant that they must fight for every yard they made.
There was shelter to lee of them. They could put up the helm and run,
but though they were wet through in a few minutes they braced themselves
for the struggle, while the savage blast screamed about them and the
ominous sound Frank had noticed--the splash of waves that curled and
broke--came more loudly out of the gathering gloom ahead. Though his
physical nature shrank from the task before him Frank would not have
chosen to go back. It was a big thing they were taking a hand in, the
climax which all their previous adventures had led up to, and he
recognized that they must see it through at any cost.
At last he was playing a man's part, acting in close coöperation with
the Government of his country, and Mr. Barclay, who had elaborated the
scheme with infinite patience and foresight, counted upon him and his
comrade. That they should fail him now was out of the question, but
Frank was glad that Jake sat at the tiller. Harry was quick and daring,
but he was young, and in this fight there was urgent need for the
instinctive skill which comes from long experience. The helmsman's
stolidness was more reassuring. He gazed up to windward, gripping the
tiller, with the spray upon his rugged face, ready for whatever action
might be necessary. Loud talking and an assertive manner were of no
service here; what was wanted was raw human valor and steadfast nerve.
It was fortunate that Jake, who was tranquil and good-humored, possessed
both.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account