which an ambush of the
storm had been lying in wait for the brave little vessel.

Down it came all at once, just when least expected, and in a few seconds
as it struck the little vessel, rushing, in spite of the small amount of
canvas spread, rapidly for the shelter, every one on deck snatched at
the nearest object to which he could cling. The schooner bravely
resisted for a while, careening over and then rising again, and then
down she went with her masts almost flat upon the foam, and then lying
over more and more as Rodd clung hard with one hand and involuntarily
stretched out the other to his uncle as if to say good-bye. For he felt
certain as the water came surging over the leeward rail that the next
minute their voyage would be ended, and the _Maid of Salcombe_ be going
down.

It was one horror of breathlessness in the shrieking wind, while the
storm-driven spray cut and lashed and flogged at the crew.

"It's all over," gasped the boy, in his excitement, though somehow even
then there was no feeling of fear.

Another minute as she still dashed on, plunging through the waves, the
vessel began to right again, the masts rising more and more towards the
perpendicular, and the water that seemed to have been scooped up in the
hollows of the well-reefed sails came streaming back in showers upon the
deck.

Another minute and Rodd began to get his breath again, panting hard and
feeling as if some great hand had been grasping him by the throat and
had at last released its hold, while as the schooner now skimmed on,
every furlong taking her more into shelter, the squall had passed over
them and went sweeping along far away over the town ahead, and the boy
felt a strong grip upon his arm.

Rodd turned sharply, to face Cross the sailor, who held on to him with
his left while he used his right hand to clear his eyes from the spray.

"All right," he said, with his lips close to the boy's ear, so as to
make himself heard, while Rodd winced, for as the man leaned towards him
he poured something less than a pint of salt water from off his
tightly-tied-on oilskin sou'-wester right into his eyes.

Rodd nodded without attempting to speak, and the sailor laughed.

There was something so genial and content in the man's looks, that it
sent a thrill of satisfaction through the boy's breast, telling as it
did that they were out of danger, while, as they rapidly glided on, the
shrieking of the wind through the rigging grew less