But even in this short space another wave had drenched us.

We were thankful to creep under its friendly shelter, and once there we wondered for the first time how we were ever to get back.

Our hearts were beginning to fail us at last.
We were cold and shivering, and wet through, and now the rain came in gusts, to add to our misery.
"Couldn't we get inside ?" said Jack, with chattering teeth.
As he spoke a shower of salt spray leapt over the boat and deluged us.
Yes; why not get inside under the tarpaulin, where we could shelter at once from the cold, and the wet, and the wind?
Nobody could see us, and if any one came we could jump out, and presently, perhaps, the storm might quiet down, and we could get back to bed.
Jack had already clambered up the side, and lifted a corner of the tarpaulin.

I followed, and in a minute we were snugly stowed away, in almost as good shelter as if we had never left our bedroom.
Then we sat and listened drowsily to the wind raging all round, and heard the spray falling with heavy thuds on the tarpaulin above us.
"It must be past twelve, Jack," said I; "a Merry Christmas to you." But Jack was fast asleep.
Chapter II.

The Rescue.
How long Jack and I had lain there, curled up under the bows of the "Dreadnought" that stormy Christmas morning, I never knew.