“What would you have me do, boy, what would you have me do?  I have acted according to my judgment hitherto, — what would you have me do?”

“Support me against Master Cap for five minutes, and all that man can do towards saving the Scud shall be done.”

The Sergeant hesitated, for he was too much of a disciplinarian to fly in the face of regular orders.  He disliked the appearance of vacillation, too; and then he had a profound respect for his kinsman’s seamanship.  While he was deliberating, Cap came from the post he had some time occupied, which was at the side of the man at the helm, and drew nigh the group.

“Master Eau-douce,” said he, as soon as near enough to be heard, “I have come to inquire if you know any spot near by where this cutter can be beached?  The moment has arrived when we are driven to this hard alternative.”

That instant of indecision on the part of Cap secured the triumph of Jasper.  Looking at the Sergeant, the young man received a nod that assured him of all he asked, and he lost not one of those moments that were getting to be so very precious.

“Shall I take the helm,” he inquired of Cap, “and see if we can reach a creek that lies to leeward?”

“Do so, do so,” said the other, hemming to clear his throat; for he felt oppressed by a responsibility that weighed all the heavier on his shoulders on account of his ignorance.  “Do so, Eau-douce, since, to be frank with you, I can see nothing better to be done.  We must beach or swamp.”

Jasper required no more; springing aft, he soon had the tiller in his own hands.  The pilot was prepared for what was to follow; and, at a sign from his young commander, the rag of sail that had so long been set was taken in.  At that moment, Jasper, watching his time, put the helm up; the head of a staysail was loosened forward, and the light cutter, as if conscious she was now under the control of familiar hands, fell off, and was soon in the trough of the sea.  This perilous instant was passed in safety, and at the next moment the little vessel appeared flying down toward the breakers at a rate that threatened instant destruction.  The distances had become so short, that five or six minutes sufficed for all that Jasper wished, and he put the helm down again, when the bows of the Scud came up to the wind, notwithstanding the turbulence of the waters, as gracefully as the duck varies its line of direction on the glassy pond.  A sign from Jasper set all in motion on the forecastle, and a kedge was thrown from each bow.  The fearful nature of the drift was now apparent even to Mabel’s eyes, for the two hawsers ran out like tow-lines.  As soon as they straightened to a slight strain, both anchors were let go, and cable was given to each, nearly to the better-ends.  It was not a difficult task to snub so light a craft with ground-tackle of a quality better than common; and in less than ten minutes from the moment when Jasper went to the helm, the Scud was riding, head to sea, with the two cables stretched ahead in lines that resembled bars of iron.