"Set that storm jib!" came the next order, when the main sails had been furled, and that was no easy task with the sharp pitching and tossing of the schooner. Not a very seamanlike job was made of it, but there was no time for the finer touches. The sails were just clewed up to prevent them from blowing away, until more time could be devoted to them. The storm jib, which is the sail furthest front on a vessel, unless it be a flying jib, was set to give her enough way so she would respond to the helm, for it was necessary to keep the craft before the wind, and head on to the seas--that is, the big waves must be cut and broken by the sharp prow, or bow, for had they come at the schooner sideways, she would have been swamped instantly. Even the small area of the storm jib was hardly necessary. The _Mary Ellen_, in that blow, would have scudded along fairly well "under bare poles," that is with no sails set at all. Even Captain Brisco had his doubts about the storm jib resisting. It might pull away from the holding ropes at any moment. But its loss would do no harm, for it would only be blown out to sea, and there were enough spare sails. So, as I have said, order came out of confusion, but even the order was somewhat confused, at least to the members of the moving picture company. They had been ordered below, and had managed, somehow, to get there, though more than one received bumps and bruises on the pitching, tossing companionway. "Oh, what an awful storm!" complained Miss Dixon, when they were huddled in the cabin. "Isn't it awful--terrible!" agreed her companion. "I am frightened to death. We may sink at any minute." "Oh, not so much danger of that in a wooden ship," said Paul consolingly. He wished the two former vaudeville actresses would try to have a little courage. "I am so frightened," murmured Miss Pennington. "I wish Captain Brisco would come down here." "What for?" asked Alice, hardly able to keep the contempt out of her voice. "So he could tell us if we are in any danger, and what we ought to do," was the selfish answer. "He _must_ save us!" "He's trying to save the ship!" said Alice, "and you two ought to be ashamed of yourselves at a time like this. Think of poor Russ and Mr. Sneed out in that motorboat all alone!" "Oh, but they--they're men," faltered Miss Dixon. "Then why don't you try to be women!" snapped Alice. "Hush, my dear," said her sister gently. "I can't!" was the answer. "When I think of poor Russ----" "I'm going to put on a life preserver," exclaimed Miss Pennington, favoring Alice with a frosty stare. "Perhaps that would be a good plan for us, my dears," said Mr. DeVere to his daughters. "It can do no harm, at all events." "No," admitted Alice. "But we appear to be all right--for the time being, at least."