w in so fierce a gale that the shallop scarcely
bore her close-reefed sails, and more than once careened so as to ship
alarming seas. The air, filled with sleet and icy snow, cut like a knife
through the thickest clothing, and again Edward Tilley, swooning with
exhaustion and cold, lay lifeless in the bottom of the boat, sadly
watched by his brother in hardly better plight and by Carver, who, like
the father of a family, carried all his children in his heart.

About the middle of the afternoon these skirmishes of the storm
concentrated in one furious and irresistible attack, before which even
the hardy sailors lowered their heads and clung to whatever lay nearest,
while Clarke, who was steering, suddenly reeled violently against the
bulwark, and recovering himself with a fearful oath seized an oar and
thrusting it out astern shouted,--

"We be all dead men! The rudder has broke, and no man can steer in such
a sea as this with an oar!"

"Two men may, so they be men and not cowards!" shouted John Alderton in
retort, and springing to the stern he thrust out his own oar, calling to
a comrade,--"Here, Cornish Jim, come you and help me, and so long as ash
blades and stout arms hold we two will steer the craft."

"Good cheer, men!" hailed Coppin from the bows where he was on the
lookout. "I see the harbor straight ahead! We are all but in! Carry on,
carry on with your sails there, Clarke, and let us make the haven before
the gale rises to its height."

"She'll never carry another inch of canvas," expostulated English as the
mate shook out a reef in the mainsail, but Coppin and Clarke were now in
command, since only they professed to know the coast, and the warning
was unheeded, especially as the wind had for a moment lulled or rather
drawn back for a more formidable spring, swooping down as the last reef
point was loosed with a force that snatched the great sail from the
men's hands, and buried the nose of the shallop deep under water. The
sail cracked and filled until it was tense as iron, but the honest
Holland duck could not give way, and it was the mast that had to go,
breaking into three pieces and falling overboard with a splintering
crash. Nor was this the worst, for with the mast went the great sail
with all its hamper of blocks and cordage, which, half in and half out
the boat, threatened to capsize and swamp her before it could be cut
away.

"Save the sail, men!" cried English through all the hubbub. "As good