His eye happened to rest on the knot of the painter where it was
fastened to a ring bolt at the bow. He drew the wet line aboard,
untied the knot and soon had his main sheet fastened to the boom.
There was a cleat near the tiller and Ralph, hauling in, brought the
yawl a little up in the wind and soon had the craft under headway.
"By jolly!" he exclaimed, "but this isn't so very bad, after all. If I
only knew where to head now, I might strike the Cape Verdes. I suppose
I might hit Africa if I went east long enough; that is, supposing I
didn't capsize or founder, or starve, or something. Heigho! How weak
I feel. Believe I'll take breakfast."
So he took up the keg and drank heartily, for his wound had made him
slightly feverish.
"I must touch it lighter than this," he said as he put down the keg.
"Lord only knows when or where I will get it filled again."
As the sun came up, a flaming red ball, the wind slowly increased.
Ralph, though by no means experienced in boat sailing, had learned how
to steer. The sail was too small and weakly fastened to render it
liable to endanger the safety of the craft and for a time the interest
aroused by the novelty of sailing by himself kept his spirits up.
But in an hour or so he felt weary. The sea had slowly risen so that
an occasional dash of water flew over the bow whenever he headed in the
least to windward.
"What is the use of tiring myself out?" he thought at last. "It don't
make any difference where I go, or whether I go at all.
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