It was but an instant, however, and then we saw him coolly tighten the cord again, and put back the helm to its former course.

After that I did not care to repeat my question.
Reader, have you ever found yourself at sea in an open boat, a mile or so from land, in a gathering storm; with the wind in your teeth and the sea rising ominously under your keel; with the black clouds mustering overhead, and the distant coastline whitening with breakers?
Have you marked the headlands change from white to solemn purple?
Have you listened to that strange hiss upon the water, and that moaning in the wind?
Have you known your boat to fly through the waves without making way, and noted anxiously by some landmark that she is rather drifting back with the current, instead of, as it seems, tearing before the wind?
If so, you can imagine our feelings that afternoon.
It was useless to pretend things were not as bad as they looked; it was useless not to admit to ourselves we were fairly in for it now, and must brave it out as best we could; it was useless to maintain we had not been foolish, wickedly foolish, in starting on so venturesome an expedition; it was useless to deny that it would have been better had we remained at Shargle, or returned to Parkhurst by land.
We were in for it now.
The one thing which gave us confidence was Hall's coolness, now that the danger was unmistakable.

He neither allowed himself to get flurried nor alarmed, but sat with closed lips watching the sail--one hand on the tiller and the other grasping the sheet, ready to let it go at a moment's notice.
As for us, we wished we could do anything more active than sit still and trim the boat.

But even that was some use, and so we remained, watching anxiously the clouds as they rolled down the sides of the hills and half obscured Shargle Head from our view.
Presently, however, Hall said-- "Get the oars out, will you?
we haven't made any way for an hour." No way for an hour! Had we then been all that time plunging through the waves for nothing?
With what grim earnestness we set to work to row through this unyielding current! But to no effect--or scarcely any.

The little white cottage on Shargle, which we looked round at so anxiously from time to time, to ascertain what progress had been made, remained always in the same position, and after twenty minutes' desperate pulling it seemed as if the total distance gained had been scarcely half a dozen yards.
It was disheartening work, still more so as the sea was rising every minute, and the rain had already begun to fall.
"We're in for a gale," said Hall, as a wave broke over the side, drenching Hutton and me, and half-filling the bottom of the boat with water.