are, writhing pole, was scudding across this deserted ocean with no
haven in sight and I was without hope of rescue.

CHAPTER X

IN WHICH I FIND A MOST REMARKABLE HAVEN

With the coming of daylight I would have tried to get some canvas on the
Wavecrest--if only a rag of jib--had the gale not been so terrific. I
doubted if, under a pocket-handkerchief of sail, I could have got her
head around without swamping her.

And then, what better off would I have been? I could have made no
progress beating against such a wind and it was better and safer to ride
before it, no matter where I was blown. There was no land ahead of me
save the shores of Spain--and Spain was a long way off.

At least, it was better to run while the sea remained in its present
condition. As I have said, the waves were beaten flat by the savage
wind. But, if there should come a lull in that, I knew well enough the
sea would instantly leap into billows that would soon founder the little
sloop if she could neither be got around to ride them, or could not
keep ahead of them.

I lashed the tiller again--as I had twice during the night--and went
below for coffee. I brought back some pilot crackers and a can of
peaches that was among the stores I had bought in town the day before,
and made a fairly satisfactory breakfast of the hard bread and fruit
with a pint can of coffee. But I would not remain below any length of
time now. It looked very much to me as though the clouds might break and
the wind shift, or lull, at any moment.

Several hours passed, however, and my watch (which I had not forgotten
to wind) told me that it was fast approaching noon before any change
came. Then the shrieking gale dropped suddenly and the gusts of rain
ceased.

I leaped up at once to unfurl the jib. With a little canvas on her I
believed the sloop could be wore 'round and headed into the wind before
the waves sprang up. Perhaps it would have been wiser to have given her
a hand's breath of the mainsail. However, before the bit of canvas
bellied out and I had dashed back to the helm, the first wave broke over
the stern of the sloop.

It was a deluge! I was waist deep in the foaming flood; the cockpit was
full; the sloop had already shipped about all the water that was good
for her, and it was plain she was too water-logged to answer the helm
promptly.

Up came a second wave. The lulling of the wind gave the waves a chance
to gather force and height. This one cu