There wa'n't nothin' to do but run afore it, and the land knows where we would fetch up.

At any rate, if the compass was right, we was drivin' back into the bay again, for the wind had hauled clear around.
"The Shootin' Star jumped and sloshed.

Fatty had on all the ileskins and sweaters, but he was shakin' like a custard pie.
"'Oh, oh, heavens!' he chatters.

'What will we do?
Will we drown ?' "'Don't know,' says I, tuggin' at the wheel and tryin' to sight the compass.

'You've got the best chance of the two of us, if it's true that fat floats.' "I thought that might cheer him up some, but it didn't.