he had stationed at intervals on the bridge.

All that I knew at this shock of waking was that something was happening
above. As I pulled on my steaming mittens and hurried my best up the
reeling stairs, I could hear the stamp of men's feet that for once were
not lagging. In the chart-house hall I heard Mr. Pike, who had already
covered the length of the bridge from the for'ard-house, shouting:

"Mizzen-braces! Slack, damn you! Slack on the run! But hold a turn!
Aft, here, all of you! Jump! Lively, if you don't want to swim! Come
in, port-braces! Don't let 'm get away! Lee-braces!--if you lose that
turn I'll split your skull! Lively! Lively!--Is that helm hard over!
Why in hell don't you answer?"

All this I heard as I dashed for the lee door and as I wondered why I did
not hear the Samurai's voice.

Then, as I passed the chart-room door, I saw him.

He was sitting on the couch, white-faced, one sea-boot in his hands, and
I could have sworn his hands were shaking. That much I saw, and the next
moment was out on deck.

At first, just emerged from the light, I could see nothing, although I
could hear men at the pin-rails and the mate snarling and shouting
commands. But I knew the manoeuvre. With a weak crew, in the big, tail-
end sea of a broken gale, breakers and destruction under her lee, the
_Elsinore_ was being worn around. We had been under lower-topsails and a
reefed foresail all night. Mr. Pike's first action, after putting the
wheel up, had been to square the mizzen-yards. With the wind-pressure
thus eased aft, the stern could more easily swing against the wind while
the wind-pressure on the for'ard-sails paid the bow off.

But it takes time to wear a ship, under short canvas, in a big sea.
Slowly, very slowly, I could feel the direction of the wind altering
against my cheek. The moon, dim at first, showed brighter and brighter
as the last shreds of a flying cloud drove away from before it. In vain
I looked for any land.

"Main-braces!--all of you!--jump!" Mr. Pike shouted, himself leading the
rush along the poop. And the men really rushed. Not in all the months I
had observed them had I seen such swiftness of energy.

I made my way to the wheel, where Tom Spink stood. He did not notice me.
With one hand holding the idle wheel, he was leaning out to one side, his
eyes fixed in a fascinated stare. I followed its direction, on between
the chart-house and the port-jigger shrouds, and