re often under the water than out, they cut and hacked
at the tangle of halyards, sheets, stays, and tackles. The cockpit was
taking water rapidly, and it was a race between swamping and completing
the task. At last, however, everything stood clear save the lee rigging.
'Frisco Kid slashed the lanyards. The storm did the rest. The _Dazzler_
drifted swiftly to leeward of the wreckage till the strain on the line
fast to the forward bitts jerked her bow into place and she ducked dead
into the eye of the wind and sea.

Pausing only for a cheer at the success of their undertaking, the two lads
raced aft, where the cockpit was half full and the dunnage of the cabin
all afloat. With a couple of buckets procured from the stern lockers, they
proceeded to fling the water overboard. It was heartbreaking work, for
many a barrelful was flung back upon them again; but they persevered, and
when night fell the _Dazzler_, bobbing merrily at her sea-anchor, could
boast that her pumps sucked once more. As 'Frisco Kid had said, the
backbone of the storm was broken, though the wind had veered to the west,
where it still blew stiffly.

"If she holds," 'Frisco Kid said, referring to the breeze, "we 'll drift
to the California coast sometime to-morrow. Nothing to do now but wait."

They said little, oppressed by the loss of their comrades and overcome
with exhaustion, preferring to huddle against each other for the sake
of warmth and companionship. It was a miserable night, and they shivered
constantly from the cold. Nothing dry was to be obtained aboard, food,
blankets, everything being soaked with the salt water. Sometimes they
dozed; but these intervals were short and harassing, for it seemed each
took turn in waking with such sudden starts as to rouse the other.

At last day broke, and they looked about. Wind and sea had dropped
considerably, and there was no question as to the safety of the
_Dazzler_. The coast was nearer than they had expected, its cliffs
showing dark and forbidding in the gray of dawn. But with the rising
of the sun they could see the yellow beaches, flanked by the white
surf, and beyond--it seemed too good to be true--the clustering houses
and smoking chimneys of a town.

"Santa Cruz!" 'Frisco Kid cried, "and no chance of being wrecked in
the surf!"

"Then the safe _is_ safe?" Joe queried.

"Safe! I should say so. It ain't much of a sheltered harbor for large
vessels, but with this breeze we 'll run right up the