An hour's sail brought them to a reef of rocks, which was quite a noted locality with the fishermen. The Fawn was anch.o.r.ed in a safe place, and the young fishermen threw over their lines. Better success attended their efforts here, and in three hours they had caught eight dozen fine perch, besides ten handsome rock-cod.

While they were fishing under the lee of the rocks, they had scarcely noticed that the wind had been steadily increasing, and that it was producing a heavy sea in the bay.

"We shall have a chance to find out what kind of a sea boat the Fawn is," said Paul, as he weighed the anchor.

"I am glad of it," replied John.

"The wind is freshening every moment," said Paul, casting an anxious glance to windward.

"Hope it will blow a gale."

"I think we shall get more than we want."

"Not more than I want, at any rate."

Paul hoisted the jib, and the Fawn rushed out among the white-capped waves; but she walked over them so majestically, that John declared she could weather any gale that ever blew. For a time she breasted the foam of the head sea in a most gallant manner; but the wind came in fearful gusts, increasing in violence every moment till Paul came to the conclusion that it was no longer safe to carry the jib and mainsail, and proposed to set a reefed foresail. John scouted the idea, but he did not want the mainmast blown out of her, and consented to the change.

John took the helm, and Paul, after lowering the jib and mainsail, hoisted the reefed foresail. The boat rode easier then; but as the wind and tide were both against them, it was soon discovered that she made no headway. As the gale steadily increased in fury, Paul would not attempt to carry any more sail, though John insisted that she could bear the jib and a close-reefed mainsail.

It was evident to Paul that, unless he put on more sail, he could not beat up to Bayville against the tide; but it was clearly imprudent to carry any more sail, and for two hours more the Fawn struggled with her hopeless task without making a single mile.

"What are you going to do, Paul?" asked John, impatient, but not terrified by their situation.

"We can't beat up in this sea."

"I know that."

"We will run over to Farm Island, and anchor under the lee of the high bluff;" and he headed the Fawn in the direction indicated.

CHAPTER XII.

PAUL SLEEPS ON HIS WATCH.

Farm Island was about two miles distant, and as the Fawn had the wind on the quarter, it required but a short time for her to reach her haven of safety. Under the high bluff on the seaward side of the island, the water was comparatively tranquil; and here Paul anch.o.r.ed.

"We are all right now," said he, with a feeling of relief, as he took in the foresail.

"When do you suppose we shall get home?" asked John.

"I don't know; we will not borrow any trouble, so long as we are in a place of safety."

"Mother won't think we are in a place of safety," added John.

"Yes, she will: I have often told her that when a gale came on, I should always get into a safe place, and keep quiet till it was prudent to run home."

"It is lucky we are in the Fawn instead of the Blowout."

"We should not have gone down so far in the old boat. I felt so safe in this craft that I did not mind much about the weather."

"We have been safe enough all the time; and if you would only have put on the jib and reefed mainsail, we should have been at home by this time."

"I did not think it was prudent to do so. I may have been mistaken; if I was, I have erred on the safe side."

"I suppose we must sleep on board," said John.

"If you don't like the idea, you can go on sh.o.r.e, and sleep at the farm house."

"But I do like the idea; we have good beds, and I had just as lief sleep here as in my own bed at home. In fact, I am rather glad we are caught."

"I thought so," said Paul, laughing; "but there it one thing we are not prepared for."

"What is that?"

"Supper."

"I wish we had a frying pan and a furnace; we could have some fried perch for supper."

"As we have not those things, we must make the best of what we have. Our luncheon is all gone; but there are two or three crackers in the locker, which I threw in from the old boat."

"We shan't starve before morning," replied John, whose philosophy was proof against an empty stomach.

"I know that; but it would be a good deal better to have some supper, if we could get it."

"Can't we go on sh.o.r.e?"

"No, we can't land on this shallow beach. It wouldn't be safe to get aground here."

Both boys were very hungry, for it was now nearly night and they had taken their lunch in the middle of the day. The crackers were eaten, and washed down with a drink of cold water from the jug; but it was a dry and unsatisfactory supper and Paul resolved in future to keep the Fawn provisioned for such an emergency as the present.

The wind still blew with undiminished violence, and the black clouds indicated rain. By and by the darkness came on, and there was no longer any prospect of getting home before the next day. Just before dark, a man hailed them from the sh.o.r.e, and offered them a bed at the farm house; but Paul thanked him and declined the offer, at the same time hinting that they had nothing on board to eat.

"Come ash.o.r.e, then, and get some supper," replied the man.

"We can't get ash.o.r.e; we draw too much water," answered Paul.

"I will bring you off then."

The man pushed a skiff into the water, and soon came alongside the Fawn.

"You have got a fine boat here," said he.

"Yes, sir; she is a very nice boat."

"But this is pretty heavy weather for boys to be out. Whose boat is she?"