ed forward and drove
away down the inlet with the stream running seaward under her, while
Wyllard felt a trifle dazed from sheer revulsion of feeling. The
rumble of the surf was growing louder, the deck slanted slightly
beneath him, and if they could keep her off the beach for the next few
minutes there was freedom before them. He hazarded a glance astern,
but could see no sign of a boat up the inlet. They had done a thing
which even then appeared almost incredible.

The breeze came down fresher, the gurgle at the bows grew louder, and
the deck commenced to heave with a slow and regular rise and fall.
Then a long, shadowy point girt about with spectral surf slipped by,
and they were out in open water. They ran her out for an hour or two
and then, though the peak of the mainsail burst to tatters as they
hauled her on a wind, let her stretch away northwards following the
trend of coast.

"We'll stand on as she's lying until we find a creek or river mouth.
We must have water," Wyllard said.

An hour later he called Charly to the wheel, and sitting down in the
shelter of the rail soon afterwards went to sleep, though this was
about the last thing he had contemplated doing. It was grey dawn when
he opened his eyes again, and stood up, aching all over and very cold,
to see that the schooner was tumbling over a little spiteful sea with
the hazy loom of land not far away from her. Then he glanced at the
gear and canvas, and was almost appalled, while Charly, who was busy
close by, saw his face and grinned.

"You don't want to look at her too much," he said. "We took a swig on
the peak-halliards a little while ago, and had to let up before we
pulled the gaff off her. Boom-foresail's worse, and the jibs are
dropping off her, while the water just pours in through her topsides
when she puts another lee plank down."

Wyllard made a little expressive gesture, and leaned upon the rail. He
realised then something of the nature of the task he had undertaken.
They had no anchor, no fresh water, no fuel for cooking, and, so far as
he was aware, very few provisions, while it seemed to him that the
weathered, worn-out gear would not hold the masts in the vessel in any
weight of breeze. Still, the thing must be attempted, and there was
one want, at least, that could be supplied.

"Anyway," he said, "we'll beat her in. When we come abreast of the
first creek you and Tom and the Siwash will go ashore."

It was afternoon whe