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Good. Then you can look after yourselves,' and with this final remark he pushed off.

There are many ways of tackling people like Chatsworth and myself, but that wasn't one of them, and so, left to our own resources, we immediately started on the repairs. The captain and crew worked far into that night, and meanwhile we held a council of war in the cabin. I was in favour of turning back to Puerto Barrios-that is, if we could get there-for I was satisfied that the craft was unseaworthy,

"Oh, we called her lots of names last night, but none of them were exactly official," I retorted airily. "Where are you bound for?" and, moreover, badly handled, suspiciously.

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but this latter I naturally did not mention. Chatsworth, the Consul-General, and even the captain agreed with me. The supercargo, however, was furious.

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There is nothing the matter with the craft," he snarled, "and your fears are completely unfounded."

"Why didn't your chief, the owner of this rotten outfit, put the motor into her?" I heckled.

"Because it's out of repair." "Like everything on board," I countered.

"Do you know that the engine-room where your beastly engine should be is flooded, and that this vessel, whatever you may say, only sails properly on one tack."

The supercargo's eyes flashed venomously.

"If you go back, I shall "I'll tell you that when we hold you and Mr Chatsworth reach our destination. Till personally responsible for the then I'm not committing mysale of this cargo of sugar," he self," I laughed. hissed between his teeth, without answering my allegations.

"Right," I replied; "that's torn it. We must go on, and I hope your sugar gets thoroughly wet."

And so it was finally agreed that we would start at 5 A.M. in the morning. We all lay down and slumbered soundly till dawn. By 5 A.M. the ship was astir, the anchor was raised, and the sails were being hoisted. It was a dead calm and foggy. "Everything's ready," the captain reported to Chatsworth. "Except the wind," I suggested.

We dropped paper overboard to see if we were moving. The paper hovered all round us, and so we gave that experiment up. We spread ourselves out on deck and tried to forget our troubles. There was nothing to be seen, and the fog hung like a grey muslin veil around us, but we had hopes that it would clear later. The supercargo, who had now recovered, having got his own way, regaled me with bits of Heine, and I retaliated with Bürger. I am fond of German poetry, and hate all card games. Chess, yes; but I am no adept. Towards noon the mist cleared, the breeze sprang up, and away we went.

"After all, yachting's not bad," suggested the ConsulGeneral as he lay there basking in the gorgeous sunlight.

The breeze began to freshen once again, and we made good progress. Towards evening the coast of Spanish Honduras was clearly visible. Chatsworth calculated that we ought to reach Puerto Cortez about daylight next morning if this favourable breeze held, but favourable breezes seldom do. At nightfall a dead calm and a heavy swell teased us. It was too deep to anchor, and so we rolled and rocked incessantly. The others turned in, but I couldn't sleep and remained on deck talking to the skipper.

"Do you think this craft would stand a norther'?" I hazarded.

"What's that?" he asked, looking up sharply.

"Well, skipper, I meant that if we had the bad luck to be caught in one of those violent storms which rise so suddenly, and which you sailors in these parts call northers, do you think this craft would weather it?"

"Depends largely how she's handled," he growled.

"I know that, skipper, but do you think you could bring her through? "

"There's hardly any wind at all," he replied evasively, and what there is, is-"

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I wetted my finger, and held it up in the most approved fashion.

"-is north," I added significantly, and completing his sentence for him.

I decided that the skipper We all jumped up. An did not like that particular angry wave dashed against the topic of conversation, and, hav- porthole like the rush of a ing exhausted all others, I mad bull. The ship staggered, bade him good-night and de- heeled over, and with a thunscended down the narrow comderous roar a huge wave swept panion into the one and only the deck just above us, the cabin, in which my three com- remnants of which poured down panions were now thoroughly through numerous openings into embedded. Slumber filled the our cabin, till the place looked place like a dense gas. Sounds like the grotto of some cavern. of snoring and heavy breathing 'God! what a night!" I greeted me. I snuggled into exclaimed. my bunk, and lay there listening to those unmusical sounds. The ship rose and fell, and the timbers creaked.

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Stop that bally trumpeting," I shouted, now thoroughly exasperated.

The Consul stirred, then chuckled, and soon began snorting again like a rhinoceros.

"Ye gods! Phew! Everything shut up!" It was like a Turkish bath. Then sleep overtook me, and I have no doubt that I added my snores and groans to the general chorus.

It must have been some hours later, although it only seemed like a few minutes, when I awakened with a start.

"Good God, what the!" "I'm going up on deck," Chatsworth confided to "Things look bad."

me.

The ship was heaving, tossing, sinking, rising, side-slipping, and the wind was shrieking. A blast of salty air and the door shut again.

"Fraid we are for it!" shouted Chatsworth through the skylight. "It's a norther, sure enough."

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"I'm for the deck," and the Consul disappeared.

The wind shrieked as he opened the hatch, which closed with a slam behind him. The captain was exhorting his crew to superhuman efforts. The storm, as these northers do, had descended upon us almost without warning, and we had been caught in full rig. This terrible danger threatened to overturn us. The sails must be lowered or we should capsize. Chatsworth manfully took the tiller, and tiller, and the Consul wedged himself in close alongside, ready to relieve him. Both of them, fortunately, knew something about yachting. The supercargo and I remained below. When you can't help, don't hinder, was our policy. We hung on like grim death to our bunk posts, and even then it was all we could do to keep our feet, but broken arms, legs, or injuries of any kind must be avoided at all costs.

"Your confounded sugar is going to get wet, mein freund," I managed to hurl at the supercargo between our acrobatic performances.

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Bang! and the hatch shut with a slap and knocked me down the companion. Bruises

I admired the fellow's deliberate courage, but did not share his optimism. "Bad indeed! Damn bad, didn't matter at that moment.

I call it."

A second later and over she went to starboard, right deep down under. I thought she was gone, then a violent swing and over to port, and now she began to rise, as if some giant hand were lifting her.

"Heavens ! What next?" I groaned, and we were catapulted into a wave which swept the ship from stem to stern.

I peered through the slanting skylight. Chatsworth and the Consul were at the wheel, drenched to the skin, and wallowing in the seas which covered the deck. Under this overload of canvas we seemed to be racing like mad-where to, we didn't know.

"Just keeping her sails filled," Chatsworth shouted with sickly smile.

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The hatchet was necessary to save the ship, and I dashed up the companion, pushed the hatch open and wedged myself in securely. Somebody snatched it from me and disappeared. Then a punch from a giant wave, a heave over to starboard, the Consul's big form loomed ominously in the darkness as he reeled, stumbled forward, and landed on his head into the scuppers. This was no time to be shut in, and I stood there at the top of the companion. The crew were hacking away at the mainsail.

"I can do no more,' cried Chatsworth. "I'm done, and she's out of control."

He had been there nearly three hours.

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cold.

Something struck my legs, something soft.

"Valdo!" I cried.

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Si, señor."

He had been housed for'ard and made his way along the ship, stout henchman that he was, to see how we were faring.

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'Valdo, we must get out of We must take to the

this.
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again, and the ship floundered burst upon us. Ugh! it was like a duck without wings. "Hopeless!" screamed Chatsworth. "I can do no more. Cut away the main-sheet." But the crew were already engaged on this dangerous job. The morning light appeared, and with it new courage. Every man fought with that sail, and down it came, but flapping like some colossal bird. Then the waves caught and held it to the waters. The light was coming, but a hopeless dawn indeed, for far from abating the storm seemed to be increasing in intensity. The waves surrounded our now derelict craft like a pack of hungry wolves. Breathless from looking into the wind and nearly blind with salt spray, I twisted round-no easy matter, but the raincoat which I was wearing over my pyjamas caught.

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Hell!" To let go meant going overboard. It was now over my head. I fought like mad, mad with anger. Something tore. I extricated an arm; now the other, and away it went, hurtling upwards and over into the sea. Now I could scan right to the horizon. The blinding rain had ceased, and we were left with a mud

grey sky and a wind that seemed to issue from a funnel. There they were, as far as the eye could see, the shameless hussies, bobbing up and down like disgraceful and abandoned dancers. This leg, that leg, up, down, and the wind screaming with delight at their mad revelry, until another deluge

"No hay, señor."

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There are none?" I queried.

They had been smashed to matchwood, and our last hope was gone.

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Look! Look !" roared the captain, whose voice echoed plaintively above the wind. The land is close there to starboard!"

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But another wave enveloped us, and I saw nothing. Where?" I shouted breathlessly as I was recovering. Starboard!"

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I don't know whose voice it was, though.

We had been driven landwards by the fury of the tempest, but fighting against odds in the dim morning light, had only just discovered it.

Green trees bent like an archer's bow greeted my swollen eyes. A native hut sat there snug and peaceful in a forest cutting; a sandy shore, a gleam of hope, but could we reach it? reach it? Clearer and clearer it grew. We were quite helpless, we could only wait, and that is the hardest thing of all, inertia, inaction. Tense

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