against the quarter, slewed the stern round, and cascaded over the gunwale, drenching Joan and her companion at the same time. They were still miles from the island, and though the blacks were straining at their oars they were not making enough progress in the right direction to satisfy Keith.
"You bale out with that can, Joan," he said, unconsciously addressing the girl by her Christian name. Two or three inches of water were running about in the bottom of the boat, and while Keith gave all his attention to the tiller the girl baled as fast as she could, but another hissing comber slapped the side angrily and poured in over the gunwale.
The water was almost flush with the seats. In that instant of peril the eyes of the girl and the man sought each other. Even a small wave toppling over the side then would have sealed their fate.
Keith threw all his weight against the tiller, and slowly brought the water-logged craft round into the wind. Stopping rowing, the blacks began to bale for their lives, using their hands as scoops; and after a few minutes of suspense the little craft rode more lightly again.
"Washee, washee," Keith ordered at last, and the black crew bent to their work with a will once more. Now, however, they were no longer making for Tamba but were just able to hold their own against the strength of the gale. With her bows turned
