Mostyn acted upon the advice, but he proceeded warily. It was a fairly easy matter to knock out the sword with a metal crutch--it was merely driving out an elongated wedge--but the question arose whether any display of force would prise the temporary planking from its fastenings. At last to his satisfaction he felt the horny spike giving. After that it moved easily. Peter pushed its point completely clear of the boat, but the next instant the water poured in with redoubled violence, a phosphorescent waterspout rising a good eight or ten inches above the kelson. Seizing a piece of canvas Peter wedged it into the gaping hole. The inflow was appreciably checked, but in order to withstand the pressure it was necessary for some one to hold the "stopper" in position, until repairs of a more substantial nature could be effected. Calling to one of the lascars, Peter bade him carry on with the plugging process. Hot, wellnigh breathless, and spent with his exertions, Peter sat up. He glanced aft. The feeble light from the binnacle showed him that Olive was at the helm, calm and collected. Throughout the anxious five minutes she had kept the boat on her course with the skill of a master-mind--a vivid contrast to the hysterical woman whose incapacity in a tight corner belied her oft-repeated statement as to her naval forbears. And during that five minutes the breeze had freshened considerably. Already the seas were breaking viciously, their white crests showing ominously in the darkness. Another peril faced the crew. Could the badly strained and leaking boat withstand the onslaught of the threatened storm? CHAPTER XXXI Picked up at Sea "I'll attend to the leak, Peter," volunteered Olive. "That will leave you free to shorten sail." "Topping!" exclaimed Mostyn. "Keep your foot on that pad of canvas. Don't press too hard or the whole gadget may carry away." Reefing was a difficult matter, for the boat was driving heavily and the canvas was as stiff as a board. Mostyn dared not risk lowering the sail. The little craft had to carry way to prevent her broaching-to and being swamped. It seemed incredible that in the short space of five or six minutes the hitherto calm sea should have worked up into a cauldron of crested waves and flying spindrift. In the contest with the elements Mostyn temporized. Putting the helm up slightly and easing off the sheet, he released the pressure on the canvas sufficiently to enable Mahmed and the two lascars to take in a couple of reefs. At the same time the boat was travelling fast but was well under control. "Let's hope it won't blow any harder," thought Peter. "She won't stand much more wind, and she'd break her back if she had to ride to a sea-anchor."