They had all they could do to hang on, as the Flying Fish danced about like a drifting cork in the wash of the great vessel.

They could see, however, that several of her passengers were clustered at her stern rail, gazing wonderingly down at them in great perplexity, no doubt, as to what manner of craft it was that they had so narrowly escaped sending to the bottom.

For had the vessel even grazed the Flying Fish, the small boat would have been annihilated without those on board the liner even feeling a tremor.

It would have been just such a tragedy as happens frequently to the fishing dories on the foggy Newfoundland banks.
"Wh-ew!" gasped Merritt, sinking down on a locker.

"That was a narrow escape if you like it!" "I don't like it," remarked Tubby sententiously, mopping his forehead, on which beads of cold perspiration had stood out while their destruction had seemed inevitable.