This work was not unattended with danger and difficulty.

Time and again as they worked the boys had to lie flat on their stomachs and hang on while the Flying Fish leaped a wave like a horse taking a barrier.

At last, however, their task was completed, and the improvised spray hood served to some extent to break the waves that now threatened momentarily to engulf the laboring craft.
"Now to get out a sea anchor!" shouted the indefatigable Tubby.
He seized up an old bait tub, a boat hook and a "swabbing-out" broom, and lashed them all together in a sort of bridle.

Then he attached the Flying Fish's mooring cable to the contrivance and paid it out for a hundred feet or more, while the storm-battered craft drifted steadily backward.

Instead, however, of lying beam on to the big sea, she now headed up into them, the "drag," as it is sometimes called, serving to keep her bow swung up to the threatening combers.
"There, she'll ride for a while, anyhow," breathed Tubby, when this was done.
"What's to be done now ?" shouted Merritt in his car.
"Nothing," was the response; "we've got to lie here till this thing blows over." "It's breaking a little to the south now," exclaimed Merritt, pointing to where a rift began to appear in the solid cloud curtain.
This was cheering news, and even the seasick but plucky Hiram, who had been bailing for all he was worth, despite his misery, began to cheer up.
"Hurrah! I guess the worst of our troubles are over," cried Tubby.
"It certainly looks as if the sea was beginning to go down, and the wind has dropped, I'm sure." That this was the case became apparent shortly.