"Come down, George, with me. You can be of no use here."



Chapter 14.

For eight hours the Osprey struggled with the storm. The sea swept
over her decks, and the dinghy was smashed into fragments, but the
yacht rode with far greater ease than an ordinary vessel would have
done, as, save for her bare mast, the wind had no hold upon her.
There were no spars with weight of furled sails to catch the wind
and hold her down; she was in perfect trim, and her sharp bows met
the waves like a wedge, and suffered them to glide past her with
scarce a shock, while the added buoyancy gained by reefing the
bowsprit and getting the anchors below lifted her over seas that,
as they approached, seemed as if they would make a clean sweep over
her.

From time to time Frank went up for a few minutes, lashing himself
to the runner to windward. The three men at the helm were all
sitting up, lashed to cleats, and sheltering themselves as far as
they could by the bulwarks. Movement toward them was impossible.
Beyond a wave of the hand, no communication could be held.

Frank could not have ventured out had he not, before going down
below for the first time, stretched a rope across the deck in front
of the companion, so that before going out he obtained a firm grasp
of it, and was by its assistance able to reach the side safely.
Each time he went out four of the crew from below followed him and
relieved those lashed to the shrouds forward.