e break. The others lay still with a vile hope in their
hearts of not being required to move till they got saved or drowned in
peace.

After some time they could be seen forward appearing on the forecastle
head, one by one in unsafe attitudes; hanging on to the rails,
clambering over the anchors; embracing the cross-head of the windlass
or hugging the fore-capstan. They were restless with strange exertions,
waved their arms, knelt, lay flat down, staggered up, seemed to strive
their hardest to go overboard. Suddenly a small white piece of canvas
fluttered amongst them, grew larger, beating. Its narrow head rose
in jerks--and at last it stood distended and triangular in the
sunshine.--"They have done it!" cried the voices aft. Captain Allistoun
let go the rope he had round his wrist and rolled to leeward headlong.
He could be seen casting the lee main braces off the pins while the
backwash of waves splashed over him.--"Square the main yard!" he shouted
up to us--who stared at him in wonder. We hesitated to stir. "The
main brace, men. Haul! haul anyhow! Lay on your backs and haul!" he
screeched, half drowned down there. We did not believe we could move the
main yard, but the strongest and the less discouraged tried to execute
the order. Others assisted half-heartedly. Singleton's eyes blazed
suddenly as he took a fresh grip of the spokes. Captain Allistoun fought
his way up to windward.--"Haul, men! Try to move it! Haul, and help the
ship." His hard face worked suffused and furious. "Is she going off,
Singleton?" he cried.--"Not a move yet, sir," croaked the old seaman in
a horribly hoarse voice.--"Watch the helm, Singleton," spluttered the
master. "Haul, men! Have you no more strength than rats? Haul, and earn
your salt." Mr. Creighton, on his back, with a swollen leg and a face as
white as a piece of paper, blinked his eyes; his bluish lips twitched.
In the wild scramble men grabbed at him, crawled over his hurt leg,
knelt on his chest. He kept perfectly still, setting his teeth without a
moan, without a sigh. The master's ardour, the cries of that silent man
inspired us. We hauled and hung in bunches on the rope. We heard him say
with violence to Donkin, who sprawled abjectly on his stomach,--"I will
brain you with this belaying pin if you don't catch hold of the brace,"
and that victim of men's injustice, cowardly and cheeky, whimpered:--"Are
you goin' to murder us now?" while with sudden desperation he gripped
the ro