Pop was right; so far the rain had held off for the most part, but now it came down steadily and soon turned into little short of a deluge. All were speedily soaked to the skin, but this was a discomfort to which, under the circumstances, no one paid attention.
The Swallow heaved and pitched, and fearful that Sam would be lost overboard, Tom told him he had better go below again.
"You can do nothing up here," he said. "If anything turns up, I'll call you."
"But you must be careful," pleaded Sam. "If I were you, I'd tie myself to the wheel," and this is what Tom did.
Slowly the night wore away, and with the coming of morning the storm abated somewhat, although the waves still lashed angrily around the Swallow. With the first streak of dawn all were on deck, watching anxiously for some sign of the lumber raft or of Dick.
"Nothing in sight!" groaned Sam, and he was right. The raft had disappeared completely, and all around them was a dreary waste of water, with a cloudy sky overhead.
Feeling that he must do something, Aleck Pop prepared a breakfast of broiled fish and hot coffee, but, when summoned to the repast, both of the Rovers shook their heads.
