As night drew on, the clouds darkened and the wind freshened, so that when Maud and I ate supper it was with our mittens on and with me still steering and eating morsels between puffs.
By the time it was dark, wind and sea had become too strong for the boat, and I reluctantly took in the sail and set about making a drag or sea-anchor.

I had learned of the device from the talk of the hunters, and it was a simple thing to manufacture.

Furling the sail and lashing it securely about the mast, boom, sprit, and two pairs of spare oars, I threw it overboard.

A line connected it with the bow, and as it floated low in the water, practically unexposed to the wind, it drifted less rapidly than the boat.

In consequence it held the boat bow on to the sea and wind--the safest position in which to escape being swamped when the sea is breaking into whitecaps.
"And now ?" Maud asked cheerfully, when the task was accomplished and I pulled on my mittens.
"And now we are no longer travelling toward Japan," I answered.