By morning the storm had taken another turn. It no longer rained,
but the sky was murky, and there was a dense fog, which the wind blew
first in one direction, and then another. They were still running
to sea, with small prospect of being able to turn back.
"This is certainly more than I bargained for," observed Dick to Tom,
in a low voice. "To me it looks mighty serious."
"Oh, the storm is bound to go down."
"Yes, Tom, but how long do you suppose the provisions and water will
last?"
At this question Tom's face fell.
"I hadn't thought of that, Dick. I don't suppose we have more than
enough for to-day, have we?"
"Well, we might make it last two days on a pinch--we brought quite
a lot along. But after that--"
"Do you think we'll have to stay out here more than two days?" demanded
Sam.
"I don't know what to think, Sam."
"Can't we rig up some sort of a jury-mast?"
"Captain Jerry mentioned that. We'll try."
There was no stick on board of the _Old Glory_ outside of the
bowsprit, and at last they decided to saw this off and put it up as
a small mast.
The task was no easy one, and just as the temporary mast was being
fitted into place there came an extra heavy puff of wind which sent
the yacht far over on her side.
"Hold fast, all of ye!" roared Captain Jerry, and they obeyed, and
the stick went rolling over the side and out of sight in the billows.
"Gone!" gasped Tom.
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