Steve held to the wheel like grim death, with Joe at his side when needed, and they plunged on.
But it didn't take Steve long to realise that to attempt to make the haven under such conditions would be folly.

There were islands and reefs ahead and the gloom made it impossible to see for any distance.
"The only thing we can do, fellows," he said presently, shouting to make himself heard above the wind, "is to run for it straight down the shore.
If we can get in past Wass Island we can anchor, I guess, but if we try to make Englishman's Bay we'll pile up somewhere as sure as shooting! I wish I was certain the _Follow Me_ was all right." "If we are, she's sure to be," said Joe.

"She's a nifty little chip in tough weather.

Here comes some rain, Steve!" Joe's description was weak, however.

It was more than "some" rain; it was a deluge! It swept past the edges of the curtains and splashed on the deck in dipperfulls.