"Humph! Three men to sail a schooner of this tonnage. And this isn't
any capsize wind at that," murmured the captain of the _Seamew_.
"But it's got to be done. Come! Will you risk it with me?"
They looked aloft and then at each other. There was little save
reflection in their several glances. Men of this caliber do not
hesitate over a risk of life or ship. Cautious as Tunis Latham was,
his agreement with those he had contracted with called for a prompt
fulfillment of the details of the pact. Nor did the prospect of the
rising gale and rising sea cause any of the trio to blanch. It was
not a long run to Big Wreck Cove. Properly manned, the _Seamew_
should make it prettily in three or four hours. In addition, there
was little but an open roadstead before the port of Hollis. The
breakwater was scarcely strong enough to fend off the waves in a
real gale. And they knew that a gale was coming.
This was no place for a schooner of the _Seamew's_ size to ride out
the storm. She might easily drag her anchors and go ashore on the
Hollis sands that in the past had buried many a good ship. So the
trio of Cape men nodded grimly to each other and took the better
chance.
CHAPTER XXXI
BITTER WATERS
Ah, yes! youth, and romance linked with a self-scrutiny born of her
New England ancestry if not of her father's Celtic blood, had
brought Sheila Macklin to her dreadful pass.
Pages:
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342