the sky is cloudin' up some. Two or
three times Mr. Robert heads the _Pyxie_ up into it and debates about
takin' in the mainsail. Then he decides it would be better to square off
and make for some cove he knows of on the north shore of Long Island. So
we let out the sheet a bit more and go plungin' along.

Must have been about four o'clock when it got to blowin' hardest. A puff
would hit us and souse the bow under, with the spray flyin' clear over
us. We'd heel until the water was runnin' white along the lee deck from
bow to stern. Then it would let up a bit, and the yacht would straighten
and sort of shake herself before another came.

"I think we'll have to slack away on our peak and spill some of this
over the gaff," says Mr. Robert. "Torchy, stand by that halyard, and
when I give the word----"

Cr-r-r-rack! It come mighty abrupt. For a minute I can't make out what
has happened; but when I sees the mast stagger and go lurchin'
overboard, sail and all, I thought it was a case of women and children
first.

"Oh, dear! How dreadful of you, Robert!" wails Ferdie. "We're wrecked!
Help! Help!"

"Oh, dry up, Ferdie!" says Mr. Robert. "No hysterics, please. Can't we
lose a mast or so without gettin' panicky? Just a weak turn-buckle on
the weather stay, that's all. Here, Vee, take the wheel, will you, and
see if you can keep her headed into it while we chop away this wreckage.
Torchy, you'll find a couple of axes over the forward lockers. Get 'em
up. Lively, now!"

We hacked away reckless, choppin' through wire stays and ropes, until we
has it all clear. Then we trims in the jigger and gets away from it. Two
minutes later and we've got the engine started and are wallowin' along
towards land. It was near six before we made the cove and anchored in
smooth water behind a little point.

Meanwhile the girls had gone below to explore the galley, and when we
fin'lly makes everything snug, and trails on down into the cabin to see
how they're comin' on, what do we find but the table all set and
Marjorie fillin' the water glasses. Also there's a welcome smell of food
driftin' about.

"Well, well!" says Mr. Robert. "Found something to eat, did you? What's
the menu?"

"Smothered potatoes with salt pork, baked beans, hard-tack, and
coffee," says Marjorie. "Here it comes."

And, say, maybe that don't sound so thrillin' to you, but to me it
listens luscious.

"By Jove!" says Mr. Robert, after he's sampled the layout. "Who's th