and to it, sons! ..." With a jerk that seemed to
tear at the limbs of us, the heavy yards would weigh against us. There
was no pulling ... only "stand and hold" ... "hold hard." Then, to us
again: "Hay ... o ... Ho.... Hay ... o! ... Round 'em in, boys! ..."
Quick work, hand over hand, the blocks rattling cheerily as we ran in
the slack.

"Vast haulin' foreyards! Turn all and lay aft!" We belayed the ropes,
and struggled aft to where the weaker watch were hauling manfully. The
sea was now on the other quarter, and lashing over the top rail with
great fury. Twice the Second Mate, who was 'tending the weather
braces, was washed down among us, still holding by the ropes. "Haul
awaay, lauds!" he would roar as he struggled back to his perilous post.
"Haul, you!"

We dragged the yards to a new tack; then to the fore, where again we
stood the buffet till we had the ship in trim for heaving-to.

"All hands off the deck!" roared the Mate when the headyards were
steadied. "Lay aft, all hands!"

Drenched and arm weary as we were, there was no tardiness in our
scramble for safe quarters--some to the poop, some to the main rigging.
We knew what would come when she rounded-to in a sea like that.

"All ready, Sir," said the Mate when he came aft to report. "All hands
are off the deck!"

"Aye, aye!" Old Jock was peering out to windward, watching keenly for
a chance to put his helm down. There was a perceptible lull in the
wind, but the sea was high as ever. The heavy, racing clouds had
broken in the zenith; there were rifts here and there through which
shone fleeting gleams from the moon, lighting the furious ocean for a
moment, then vanishing as the storm-wrack swept over.

It seemed a long time before the Old Man saw the 'smooth' he was
waiting for. A succession of big seas raced up, broke, and poured
aboard: one, higher than all, swept by, sending her reeling to the
trough. Now--the chance! "Ease th' helm down!" he shouted. "Stand
by, all!" Her head swung steadily to windward, the steering way was
well timed.

Suddenly, as we on the poop watched ahead, a gleam of light shone on
the wet decks. The half-deck door was swung out--a figure blocked the
light, sprawling over the washboard--Munro! "Back!" we yelled. "Go
back!"

There was time enough, but the youngster, confused by the shouts, ran
forward, then aft, bewildered.

The ship was bearing up to the wind and sea. Already her head was
driving d