empting at the risk of their lives.
As the mast stood there was nothing to support it, and if it went (he
explained) the _Spitfire_ would become a sheer hulk and then our
situation would be desperate indeed; but if the men succeeded in
preserving the mast, they could easily make sail upon the yacht when
the weather moderated, "and the land ain't very fur off yet, sir," he
added.

"But we are widening our distance rapidly."

He shook his head somewhat dolefully, saying, "Yes, that was so."

"I am thinking of the hull, Caudel. Surely this wild tossing must be
straining the vessel frightfully. Does she continue to take in water?"

"I must not deceive you, sir," he answered; "she _do_. But a short
spell at the pump sarves to chuck it all out again, and so there's no
call for your honour to be oneasy."

He returned to the others, whilst I, heart-sickened by the intelligence
that the _Spitfire_ had sprung a leak--for _that_, I felt, must be the
plain English of Caudel's assurance--continued standing a few moments
longer in the hatch looking round. Ugly rings of vapour, patches and
fragments of dirty yellow scud flew past, loose and low under the near
grey wet stoop of the sky; they made the only break in that firmament
of storm. The smother of the weather was thickened yet by the clouds
of driving spray which rose like bursts of steam from the sides and
heads of the seas, making one think of the fierce gusts and guns of the
gale as of wolves tearing mouthfuls with sharp teeth from the flanks
and backs of the rushing and roaring chase they pursued.

How the seamen maintained their footing I could not imagine. In order
to climb the naked spar they had driven short nails at wide intervals
up it; and one of them--Foster--as I watched, crawled up the mast with
a big block on his back.

It seemed to me as though the men were working for life or death. The
yacht rode buoyant to her lashed helm under a fragment of mizzen if I
remember right, and very little water came aboard, though great
fountains of spray would occasionally soar off the bow, and blow in a
snowstorm fathoms away into the sea on the opposite side. But the
motions of that naked height of splintered mast were like a baton in
the hands of an excited orchestra conductor, and though I believe I was
not more wanting in nerves in my time than most others, my eyes reeled
in my head at sight of the plucky fellow, doggedly rising nail by nail,
till he had reach