e sailor on the
temple. He went down like a stone. Courtenay stumbled over another
prostrate body. It was Mr. Boyle, striving to rise. Their eyes met in
the gloom. Courtenay stooped and swung the other clear of the fight,
for the second and third officers were using their fists, and Walker,
even in the hurry of his ascent from the stoke-hold, had not let go of
a spanner. The yells and curses, the trampling of dim forms swaying in
the fight, the roaring of the gale, and the incessant crash of heavy
spray made up a ghastly pandemonium. It was an orgy of terror, of wild
abandon, of hopeless striving on the edge of the pit--a stupid madness
at the best, as the ship's life-boats on the port side were on the spar
deck; in their panic the men were endeavoring to lower a dingy. Yet
Courtenay saw that discipline was regaining its influence. He thought
to inspire confidence and stop useless savagery by a sharp command.

"All hands follow me to starboard!"

The struggle ceased instantly. The captain's order seemed to imply
some new scheme. Men who, a moment ago, would have killed any one who
sought to restrain them from clearing the boat's falls, now raced
pell-mell after their officers. No heed was paid to those who lay on
the deck, wounded or insensible. Herein alone did these Chilean
sailors differ from wolves, and wolves have the excuse of fierce hunger
when they devour their disabled fellows.

Still carrying Boyle, Courtenay led the confused horde through a
gangway to the higher side of the deck.

"Swing those boats back to the spar deck!" he said. "Get falls and
tackle ready to lift them to port. Don't lose your heads, men. You
will all be clear of the ship in ten minutes if you do as you are told."

Two officers and a quarter-master sprang forward. In an incredibly
short space of time the crew were working with redoubled frenzy, but
under control, and with a common object. For an instant, Courtenay was
free to attend to his chief officer. He bore him to the lighted saloon
companion. Boyle was deathly pale under the tan of his skin. The
captain saw that his own left hand, where it clasped the other round
the waist, was covered with blood.

"Below there!" he cried. "Bring two men here, Mr. Malcolm."

When the chief steward came he gave directions that Mr. Boyle should be
taken to the saloon and Dr. Christobal summoned.

"Send some one you can trust to return," he continued. "Go then to the
lee