The treasure ship, "The Galleon,"
pitched and rocked like a real galleon in the long swells of the Pacific,
but the five knew that she was perfectly safe. The broad, square Spanish
boat could not be swamped.
"Thank God, we've taken in that sail," said Henry. "We're going to have a
night of it! Do you think we'd better pull for the shore?"
"Not now," replied Shif'less Sol, "the wind's risin' too fast, an' we'd
hit a tree or a snag, shore. Better keep ez nearly in the middle o' the
river ez we kin!"
The soundness of Sol's judgment became apparent at once. The shriek of the
wind rose to a scream and then a roar. The night became pitchy dark. They
could see nothing around them but a narrow circle of muddy waters heaving
violently. Under the far horizon in the south and west, low, sullen
thunder began to mutter. Suddenly the sky parted before a tremendous flash
of lightning that blazed for a moment across the heavens and then went
out, leaving the night darker than before. But in that moment they caught
a vivid glimpse of the flooded forest, the great waste of troubled waters,
and all the vast desolation about them. It was weird and uncanny to the
last degree, and despite all the dangers and hardships through which they
had passed on land, the five steadied their nerves only with supreme
efforts of the will.
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