"Now she takes it!" French Pete cried.
Both lads ran into the cockpit. They were on the edge of the breaking bar. A huge forty-footer reared a foam-crested head far above them, stealing their wind for the moment and threatening to crush the tiny craft like an egg-shell. Joe held his breath. It was the supreme1 moment. French Pete luffed straight into it, and the Dazzler mounted the steep slope with a rush, poised2 a moment on the giddy summit, and fell into the yawning valley beyond. Keeping off in the intervals3 to fill the mainsail, and luffing into the combers, they worked their way across the dangerous stretch. Once they caught the tail-end of a whitecap and were well-nigh smothered4 in the froth, but otherwise the sloop5 bobbed and ducked with the happy facility of a cork6.
To Joe it seemed as though he had been lifted out of himself—out of the world. Ah, this was life! this was action! Surely it could not be the old, commonplace world he had lived in so long! The sailors, grouped on the streaming deck-load of the steamer, waved their sou'westers, and, on the bridge, even the captain was expressing his admiration7 for the plucky8 craft.
"Ah, you see! you see!" French Pete pointed9 astern.
The sloop-yacht had been afraid to venture it, and was skirting back and forth10 on the inner edge of the bar. The chase was over. A pilot-boat, running for shelter from the coming storm, flew by them like a frightened bird, passing the steamer as though the latter were standing11 still.
Half an hour later the Dazzler sped beyond the last smoking sea and was sliding up and down on the long Pacific swell12. The wind had increased its velocity13 and necessitated14 a reefing down of jib and mainsail. Then they laid off again, full and free on the starboard tack15, for the Farralones, thirty miles away. By the time breakfast was cooked and eaten they picked up the Reindeer16, which was hove to and working offshore17 to the south and west. The wheel was lashed18 down, and there was not a soul on deck.
French Pete complained bitterly against such recklessness. "Dat is ze one fault of Red Nelson. He no care. He is afraid of not'ing. Some day he will die, oh, so vaire queeck! I know he will."
Three times they circled about the Reindeer, running under her weather quarter and shouting in chorus, before they brought anybody on deck. Sail was then made at once, and together the two cockle-shells plunged19 away into the vastness of the Pacific. This was necessary, as 'Frisco Kid informed Joe, in order to have an offing before the whole fury of the storm broke upon them. Otherwise they would be driven on the lee shore of the California coast. Grub and water, he said, could be obtained by running into the land when fine weather came. He congratulated Joe upon the fact that he was not seasick20, which circumstance likewise brought praise from French Pete and put him in better humor with his mutinous21 young sailor.
"I 'll tell you what we 'll do," 'Frisco Kid whispered, while cooking dinner. "To-night we 'll drag French Pete down—"
"Drag French Pete down!"
"Yes, and tie him up good and snug22, as soon as it gets dark; then put out the lights and make a run for land; get to port anyway, anywhere, just so long as we shake loose ............