eized the oars. "I'll help get her off," he
said, "but I won't go."

In the green light of the harbor a smile played over Uncle William's
face grotesquely. He gave a shove to the boat and sprang in. "I guess
you'll go, Andrew," he said; "you wouldn't want a man drowned right at
your door-yard."

"You can't live in it," said Andrew. He lifted his face to the light.
Far to the east a boat crawled against it. "It'll strike in five
minutes," he said.

"Like enough," said Uncle William--"like enough. Easy there!" He seized
the stern of the _Andrew Halloran_ and sprang on board. They worked
in swift silence, hoisting the anchor, letting out the sail,--a single
reef,--making it fast. "All she'll stan'," said Uncle William. He turned
to the helm.

Andrew, seated on the tiller bench, glared at him defiantly. "If she's
going out, I take her," he said.

"You get right over there and tend the sheet, Andy," said Uncle William.

In silence the other obeyed. He undid the rope, letting it out with
cautious hand. The low sail caught the breeze and stiffened to it. The
boat came round to the wind, dipping lightly. She moved through the
murky light as if drawn by unseen hands.

The light thickened and grew black--clouded and dense and swift. Then,
with a wrench, heaven parted about them. The water descended in sheets,
gray-black planes that shut them in--blinded them, crushed them. Andrew,
crouching to the blows, drew in the sheet, closer, closer--hugging the
wind with tense grasp. About them, the water flattened like a plate
beneath the flood. When the rain shifted a second they saw it, a
gray-white floor, stretching as far as the eye could reach. Uncle
William bent to it, scanning the east. "Hold her tight, Andy," he
yelled. His leg was braced against the tiller, and his back strained to
it. His hat was gone. The tufts of hair, lashed flat to the big skull,
were mere lines. "Hold her tight! Make fast!" he yelled again.

Through the dark they drove, stunned and grim. The minutes lengthened
to ages and beat them, eternally, in torment. Water and clouds were all
about them--underneath them, and over. The boat, towering on each wave,
dropped from its crest like a ball. Andy, crouching on the bottom of
the boat, held on like grim death. Then, in a breath the storm was gone.
With a sucking sound it had swept beyond them, its black skirts hurtling
behind it as it ran, kicking a wake of foam.

Andrew from beneath the bench lifted his