rrs, the eminent
advocate. Corkey grows black in the face. He hiccoughs. He strangles.

He unburdens himself with a supreme sneeze. The mate enters the cabin.

"I _knew_ that sneeze would wreck us!" he cries savagely.

"Is your old tub sinking?" asks Corkey, in retort.

"That's what she is!" replies the mate.

Corkey looks like a man relieved. Politics is off his mind. He will
not be laughed at on the docks now.

"Pardner, I'm sorry we're in this hole," he says, as the twain rush
through the door to the deck. It was dim under that swinging lamp. It
is dark out here. The wind is bitter. The second mate stands hard by.

"How much water is in?" asks Corkey.

"Plenty," says the second mate.

"What have ye done?" asks Corkey.

"Captain's blind, stavin' drunk, and won't do nothin'."

"Nice picnic!" says Corkey.

"Nice picnic!" says the second mate, warming up.

It is midnight in the middle of Georgian Bay. There is a fall gale
such as comes only once in four or five years. In the morning there
will be three hundred wrecks on the great lakes--the most inhospitable
bodies of water in the world.

And of all stormy places let the sailor keep out of Georgian Bay.

CHAPTER XIII

OFF CAPE CROKER

Corkey has climbed to the upper deck and stands there alone in the
darkness and the gale. The engine stops. The steamer falls into the
trough of the sea.

The Africa carries two yawls attached to her davits. Corkey is feeling
about one of these yawls. He suspects that the lines are old. He
steps to the other side. He strains at a rope. He strives to unloose
it from its cleat. The line is stiff and almost frozen.

"I'd be afraid to lower myself, anyhow," he observes, for he has the
notion that everything about the Africa is insecure.

The ship gives another lurch. Something must be done. Almost before
he knows it, Corkey has cut loose the stern. The rope seems strong.

Now he must unwind the bow line from its cleat, or he will lose his
boat. He kicks at the cleat. He loosens a loop. He raises the boat
and then lowers it. The tackle works.

The other yawl and its tackle roll and creak in the gale. Nobody else
comes up the ladders.

The man aloft pulls his line out and fastens it to the cleat which he
tried to kick off. He seizes the stern of the yawl and hoists it far
over the upper deck. The yawl falls outside the gunwale below, with a
great crash and splintering of oars.

"S