I'll catch hold of the oar.

Ready ?" "Yes." "Now then." The exchange was quickly effected, the water sent flying with more energy, and Vince pressed upon the oar as he rested himself, and sent the brave little boat faster through the sea.
"You're giving it to her too hard," remonstrated Mike, as the gunwale went down dangerously near the surface.
"No, I'm not.

You hold your tongue and bale," said Vince fiercely.
"Keep it down." Mike worked as he had never worked before, but he could not get the water an inch lower than Vince had left it.

Still he never slackened his pace, though he felt sure that it was gaining upon him, and that before long the boat would begin to sink.
At last he could contain himself no longer, and with a hoarse gasp he cried: "It's of no use, Vince; she's going down." "No, she isn't," said the boy quietly; "and she can't go down if we pitch out those two big pieces of iron ballast.

She'll go over on her side, and we shall have to hold on if it comes to the worst; but I think I can send her in, Ladle, if you can keep on baling." "Yes, I can keep on," said Mike faintly.
"Tell me when you're beat out, and I'll begin again." Mike nodded.
"But keep on till you're ready to drop, so as to give me all the rest you can, for my arms feel like bits of wood." Mike jerked his head again, and the water went on flying out, looking like a shower of gold in the late afternoon sunshine, till Vince shouted to his companion, in regular nautical parlance, to stand by with the sail.
Mike sprang up and loosened the sheet, standing ready to swing the yard over to the other side.