Or if we are
missed from shore they may send the lifeboat out after us. That is
our best chance."
In another quarter of an hour Ruthven was ready to take another
spell at the oar. "I fear," Frank shouted to him as he climbed over
the seat, "there is no chance whatever of making shore. All we've
got to do is to row steadily and keep her head dead to wind. Two
of us will do for that. You and I will row now, and let Handcock
and Jones steer and rest by turns. Then when we are done up they
can take our places."
In another hour it was quite dark, save for the gray light from
the foaming water around. The wind was blowing stronger than ever,
and it required the greatest care on the part of the steersman to
keep her dead in the eye of the wind. Handcock was steering now,
and Jones lying at the bottom of the boat, where he was sheltered,
at least from the wind. All the lads were plucky fellows and kept
up a semblance of good spirits, but all in their hearts knew that
their position was a desperate one.
CHAPTER II: A MAD DOG
"Don't you think, Hargate," Ruthven shouted in his ear, "we had
better run before it? It's as much as Handcock can do to keep her
head straight.
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