In the cabin was heard a series of
groans more agonized than before. The guardian had recovered in a
measure, though they observed that she was very pale. The fresh air
outside revived her somewhat.
"I wish you to tell me frankly if there is any danger?" she demanded.
"Not yet," was the skipper's evasive answer.
"Meaning that there may be later?"
"We may be late getting home," he replied. "I can't say any more than
that now. Ugh!"
Harriet Burrell saw him gazing off to the northeast. She followed the
direction of his glance, and saw a purplish haze hanging heavily on
the horizon. As she gazed the purple haze seemed to grow darker and to
increase in size. The sight disturbed her, though she did not know
why. The sea now made little noise. A flock of seagulls could be
plainly heard honking high overhead, and a chattering flock of stormy
petrels soared down, coming to rest on the water in the wake of the
sloop.
"I'll take in the jibs. Mind your wheel. We are in for a blow,"
announced the skipper.
CHAPTER XXII
IN THE GRIP OF MIGHTY SEAS
The captain quickly furled the jibs, then took a reef in the mainsail.
Consulting the skies again, he decided to leave one of the jibs up, so
set it once more and took another reef in the mainsail, thus
shortening the latter considerably.
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