, made a
simultaneous leap aboard the schooner. As the _Ghost_ rolled her side
out of water, the boat was lifted snugly against her, and before the
return roll came, we had heaved it in over the side and turned it bottom
up on the deck. I noticed blood spouting from Kerfoot's left hand. In
some way the third finger had been crushed to a pulp. But he gave no
sign of pain, and with his single right hand helped us lash the boat in
its place.

"Stand by to let that jib over, you Oofty!" Wolf Larsen commanded, the
very second we had finished with the boat. "Kelly, come aft and slack
off the main-sheet! You, Kerfoot, go for'ard and see what's become of
Cooky! Mr. Van Weyden, run aloft again, and cut away any stray stuff on
your way!"

And having commanded, he went aft with his peculiar tigerish leaps to the
wheel. While I toiled up the fore-shrouds the _Ghost_ slowly paid off.
This time, as we went into the trough of the sea and were swept, there
were no sails to carry away. And, halfway to the crosstrees and
flattened against the rigging by the full force of the wind so that it
would have been impossible for me to have fallen, the _Ghost_ almost on
her beam-ends and the masts parallel with the water, I looked, not down,
but at almost right angles from the perpendicular, to the deck of the
_Ghost_. But I saw, not the deck, but where the deck should have been,
for it was buried beneath a wild tumbling of water. Out of this water I
could see the two masts rising, and that was all. The _Ghost_, for the
moment, was buried beneath the sea. As she squared off more and more,
escaping from the side pressure, she righted herself and broke her deck,
like a whale's back, through the ocean surface.

Then we raced, and wildly, across the wild sea, the while I hung like a
fly in the crosstrees and searched for the other boats. In half-an-hour
I sighted the second one, swamped and bottom up, to which were
desperately clinging Jock Horner, fat Louis, and Johnson. This time I
remained aloft, and Wolf Larsen succeeded in heaving to without being
swept. As before, we drifted down upon it. Tackles were made fast and
lines flung to the men, who scrambled aboard like monkeys. The boat
itself was crushed and splintered against the schooner's side as it came
inboard; but the wreck was securely lashed, for it could be patched and
made whole again.

Once more the _Ghost_ bore away before the storm, this time so submerging
hersel