"Still feel that tug to sta'bbo'd," grumbled Horry. "Just like--"
"Belay that!" commanded Tunis. "I begin to believe that's bad luck,
anyway. If you hadn't got on to that tack when we first put the
schooner into commission, those Portygees wouldn't have even
remembered the _Marlin B._ And _that_ schooner thousands of miles
away from these seas!"
"I cal'late 'Rion Latham would have found something else to harp on
then," said Zebedee. "He was bound to ruin you if he could."
Quickly the gale increased instead of abating, and it was utterly
impossible for the trio to get topsails on her. She needed the pull
of upper canvas if she was to tack properly for the mouth of the
channel into Big Wreck Cove.
They fought for two hours to bring this much-desired object to pass,
hoping for a lull or a shifting of the gale which might aid them.
The yellow sands of Wreckers' Head were plainly in view all that
time. To give up the attempt and run before the gale was a folly of
which Tunis Latham had no intention of being guilty if it could
possibly be avoided. Manned as she was, the schooner might never be
worked back to a landfall if they did so.
The keen old eyes of Horace Newbegin first spied the thing which
promised hope.
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