and less and the
motion of the schooner more and more steady as the harbour was gained.

"Say, my lad," said Cross, "I thought we was going to make our first
dive after specimens, and the _Saucy Sally_ seemed to be holding her
breath as she stuck her nose down into it and then jibbed and threw
herself over sideways as if she knowed there wasn't depth enough of
water for the job."

"Hah!" gasped Rodd hoarsely, for he had been taking in spray as well as
wind, and he had now nearly recovered the power of breathing easily and
well. "Why, Joe, I thought we were sinking."

"Nay, my lad; not us! The _Sally_ was too well battened down, and
couldn't have sunk; but I was getting a bit anxious when it looked as if
we was going to miss the harbour mouth and go floating in ashore lying
down as if we had all gone to sleep."

"Yes, it was horrible," said Rodd, with a sigh of relief. "But what
would have happened if we had missed the mouth and gone ashore?"

"Why, what does happen, my lad, when a ship does that? Bumps, and a
sale arterwards of new-wrecked timber on the beach. But here we are all
right, and instead of being ashamed of ourselves we can look the
mounseers full in the face and tell 'em that if they can manage a better
bit of seamanship than the skipper, they had better go and show us how."

Joe Cross said no more, for Captain Chubb was roaring orders through a
speaking trumpet, the last bit of canvas was lowered down, and before
long the schooner was safely moored in the outer harbour as far away as
she could safely get from the vessels that had taken refuge before them,
some of them grinding together and damaging their paint and wood, in
spite of their busy crews hard at work with fenders and striving to get
into safer quarters, notwithstanding the efforts of the heavy gusts
which came bearing down from time to time.

The nearest vessel was a handsome-looking brig which they had passed as
they glided in, noting that she was moored head to wind to a heavy buoy.
As they passed her to run nearer into shelter Rodd had noticed the name
upon her stern, the _Jeanne d'Arc_, which suggested immediately the
patriotic Maid of Orleans.

He had forgotten it the next moment, the name being merged with the
thought that while the schooner had had so narrow an escape of ending
her voyage, the brig had been lying snugly moored to the buoy. But now
as they glided on it became evident that the brig had broken adrift, for
all a