He altered his course a little and paddled steadily on.  And now the squall was breaking.  Fortunately, it was not a very heavy one, or their frail craft must have sunk and they with it.  But it was quite serious enough to put them in great danger.  The canoe rose to the waves like a feather, but she was broadside on, and rise as she would they began to ship a little water.  And they had not seen the worst of it.  The weather was still thickening.

Still he held on, though his heart sank within him, while Beatrice said nothing.  Presently a big wave came; he could just see its white crest gleaming through the gloom, then it was on them.  The canoe rose to it gallantly; it seemed to curl right over her, making the craft roll till Geoffrey thought that the end had come.  But she rode it out, not, however, without shipping more than a bucket of water.  Without saying a word, Beatrice took the cloth cap from her head and, leaning forward, began to bale as best she could, and that was not very well.

“This will not do,” he called.  “I must keep her head to the sea or we shall be swamped.”

“Yes,” she answered, “keep her head up.  We are in great danger.”

He glanced to his right; another white sea was heaving down on him; he could just see its glittering crest.  With all his force he dug the paddle into the water; the canoe answered to it; she came round just in time to ride out the wave with safety, but the paddle snapped.  It was already sprung, and the weight he put upon it was more than it could bear.  Right in two it broke, some nine inches above that blade which at the moment was buried in the water.  He felt it go, and despair took hold of him.

“Great heavens!” he cried, “the paddle is broken.”

Beatrice gasped.

“You must use the other blade,” she said; “paddle first one side and then on the other, and keep her head on.”

“Till we sink,” he answered.

“No, till we are saved—­never talk of sinking.”

The girl’s courage shamed him, and he obeyed her instructions as best he could.  By dint of continually shifting what remained of the paddle from one side of the canoe to the other, he did manage to keep her head on to the waves that were now rolling in apace.  But in their hearts they both wondered how long this would last.

“Have you got any cartridges?” she asked presently.

“Yes, in my coat pocket,” he answered.

“Give me two, if you can manage it,” she said.

In an interval between the coming of two seas he contrived to slip his hand into a pocket and transfer the cartridges.  Apparently she knew something of the working of a gun, for presently there was a flash and a report, quickly followed by another.

“Give me some more cartridges,” she cried.  He did so, but nothing followed.

“It is no use,” she said at length, “the cartridges are wet.  I cannot get the empty cases out.  But perhaps they may have seen or heard them.  Old Edward is sure to be watching for me.  You had better throw the rest into the sea if you can manage it,” she added by way of an afterthought; “we may have to swim presently.”