“This wind is nothing to what is coming,” Johann shouted.
Except for this remark and for the orders he issued from time to time, he scarcely spoke throughout their long and perilous voyage. White-faced, determined, with eyes that seemed to be seeing far visions, rather than the hungry seas about him, he stood at the tiller and, by main strength of will it seemed, drove the little boat upon her course. To Billy it appeared that at any moment one of the vast, green mountains of water that ran beside, must sweep in upon them with its overwhelming flood, but always the boat lifted just in time and slipped over the crests in safety.
He crouched in the bottom, drenched, shivering, blinded by the flying spray, thinking of nothing but Johann’s next order and whether he could carry it out. Dimly he realized that the wind shrieked ever louder through the rigging, that the great waves were becoming greater, that the squalls of rain were sharper and more frequent. Yet he never doubted the outcome; he felt certain that Johann’s skill would not fail them, that the wind might roar as it pleased, and the
