“Now, Nigel,” said the hermit, “unship the mast, reeve the halyard of this foresail through the top and then re-ship it.  Moses will give you the mainsail when ready, and you can hook the halyards on to it.  The thing is too simple to require explanation to a sailor.  I attend to the foresail and Moses manages the mainsheet, but you have to mind the halyards of both, which, as you would see if it were light enough, run down alongside the mast.  All I ask you to remember is to be smart in obeying orders, for squalls are sometimes very sudden here—­but I doubt not that such a caution is needless.”

“I’ll do my best,” said Nigel.

By this time a slight puff of air had ruffled the sea, thereby intensifying, if possible, the blackness which already prevailed.  The tiny sails caught the puff, causing the canoe to lean slightly over, and glide with a rippling sound through the water, while Moses steered by means of his paddle.

“You have put Spinkie down below, I think,” said Nigel, who had been struck more than once with the hermit’s extreme tenderness and care of the little creature.

“Yes, to prevent it from being washed overboard.  I nearly lost the poor little thing once or twice, and now when we are likely to be caught in bad weather I put him below.”

“Is he not apt to be suffocated?” asked Nigel.  “With everything made so tight to prevent water getting into the canoe, you necessarily prevent air entering also.”

“I see you have a mechanical turn of mind,” returned the hermit.  “You are right.  Yet in so large a canoe the air would last a considerable time to satisfy a monkey.  Nevertheless, I have made provision for that.  There is a short tube alongside the mast, and fixed to it, which runs a little below the deck and rises a foot above it so as to be well above the wash of most waves, and in the deck near the stern there is a small hole with a cap fitted so as to turn the water but admit the air.  Thus free circulation of air is established below deck.”

Suddenly a hissing sound was heard to windward.

“Look out, Moses,” said Van der Kemp.  “There it comes.  Let go the sheet.  Keep good hold of your paddle, Nigel.”

The warning was by no means unnecessary, for as the canoe’s head was turned to meet the blast, a hissing sheet of white water swept right over the tiny craft, completely submerging it, insomuch that the three men appeared to be sitting more than waist-deep in the water.

“Lower the mainsail!” shouted the hermit, for the noise of wind and sea had become deafening.

Nigel obeyed and held on to the flapping sheet.  The hermit had at the same moment let go the foresail, the flapping of which he controlled by a rope-tackle arranged for the purpose.  He then grasped his single-blade paddle and aided Moses in keeping her head to wind and sea.  For a few minutes this was all that could be done.  Then the first violence of the squall passed off, allowing the deck of the little craft to appear above the tormented water.  Soon the waves began to rise.