he yardarm, he added, "It is coming, Jack; one
hand for yourself and one for the ship!"

But he did not act upon the advice himself. No more did I. Indeed,
one needs both arms and a stout back to pass reef points. We leaned
into the work, put our united brawn into it, and progressed briskly.
All the while I stared beneath me, into the whistling, inky void,
trying to discern that spot on the deck below, where the braces that
held this yard steady were made fast. I felt this lofty spot was no
healthful abiding place for Newman and me. I had a premonition of what
was coming!

Yet, when it did come, I was caught unawares. I felt the wood I leaned
on draw suddenly away from me. There came a jerk that nigh snapped my
neck. My feet left the foot rope, and I was falling, head foremost,
into the blackness. They said I screamed loudly. I was not conscious
I opened my mouth.

It is strange, the trick a thing like that can play with one's senses.
I seemed to be falling for moments, an immeasurable distance.
Actually, the whole thing occurred in about a second's space, and my
feet just about cleared the yardarm when Newman's grip fastened upon my
ankle.

My face was buried in the smothering folds of the threshing sail; then
Newman had drawn me up until my body balanced on the yard. A second
later my feet were again on the foot rope, and my hands fastened for
dear life to the jackstay.

I was conscious of using my voice then. Aye--but I swore! "By heaven,
he let go the port brace!" I yelled to Newman.

For answer, Newman grabbed me around the waist, just as a fork of
lightning zigzagged through the sky. For the briefest instant, the
ship stood out in a bright light. Far below us, on the deck, we saw
Captain Swope standing, looking up at us. Then blackness again. I
felt myself for a second time jerked clear of my foothold--to
immediately wrap my limbs about a wire rope. For Newman had leaped for
a backstay, as the yard swung close, and carried me with him.

For a moment we hung there, one above the other, then we commenced to
slide to the deck. Mister Lynch's voice came booming up to us, and we
saw the light of a lantern bobbing about. A moment later we clattered
off the poop, on to the main deck.

A group was bunched together in the lee of the cabin, Captain Swope,
and Lynch and the tradesmen. Lynch carried the lighted hurricane lamp
that hung handy in a sheltered nook during the night. Forward, a
res