log, and Paul, though it was time for the
larboard watch to be called, had not the heart to wake up his brother.
As the gale had subsided, the boat seemed to be no longer in danger, and
he decided to turn in and finish his nap. But while he slept, the wind,
which had abated only to come with still greater violence from another
quarter, steadily increased in fury, till it blew a gale from the
northeast.

The pitching of the boat soon startled Paul from his slumbers, and he
rushed out into the standing room to find that the Fawn was rapidly
dragging her anchor, and was in imminent peril of being dashed to pieces
on the rocky shore.

CHAPTER XIII.

PAUL MAKES A NIGHT RUN IN THE STORM.

"John, John!" shouted Paul, when he realized the dangerous situation of
the Fawn.

But the first mate of the craft slept too soundly to be disturbed by
mere words, and the skipper had to shake him before he came to his
senses.

"What is the matter, Paul?" asked he, as soon as he could get his eyes
open and realize where he was.

"Put on your greatcoat and shoes, and come out here and be lively about
it," cried Paul.

John obeyed, and before he was ready to join Paul in the standing room,
he began to apprehend the state of affairs on board, for the furious
wind and the angry waves that stormed against the hull and rigging of
the Fawn told their own story.

"What's the trouble?" he asked, as he joined his brother.

"Don't you see there is a gale of wind down upon us?" replied Paul,
sharply.

"Well, what of it?" demanded the young salt, with provoking
indifference.

"A good deal of it; the boat has dragged her anchor, and at this rate
will be upon the rocks in fifteen minutes! Come, be alive, and don't
stand there like a log."

"What shall I do? You are the skipper, and I am ready to do anything you
say," replied John, who was by this time fully awake.

"Can we pay out any more cable?"

But this was a useless question, for Paul knew very well that the cable
was all out. Our young readers may not all understand the meaning of
Paul's question. If the vessel rides at anchor with a short cable, her
motion, as she rises and falls with the sea, raises up the shaft of the
anchor, which has a tendency to detach the flukes, or points from the
bottom. But Paul had been careful the night before to give the Fawn all
the cable he could spare; and it was evident, therefore, that the anchor
was not heavy enough, or that there was