g the matter over in his mind. "We've managed to
weather the gale so far, and so might they. Those fellows are
accustomed to these seas and can smell a typhoon coming; so, if they ran
to windward in time, instead of lying-to and waiting for it, as we did,
they might have got out of it altogether by keeping ahead of it."

"Pooh!" ejaculated "Old Jock" contemptuously--"I've no fear of being
troubled by them again. They're all down in Davy Jones' locker by this;
and may joy go with them, as I said before!"

"Well, sir," said Mr Mackay, not pursuing his theory any further, and
desirous of turning the conversation, if conversation it can be called
when both were holding on still to the life-lines and shouting at each
other more than speaking, "what are we to do now?"

"Carry-on, of course," replied "Old Jock," with a squint up at the
watery moon and the flying clouds that ever and anon obscured its pale
gleams, making everything look black around the moment it was hidden,
"There's nothing else to be done but to let her scud before it until the
gale has spent its force. I wish we could get up some more sail,
though."

"Would it be safe, sir?"

"Safe!" snorted "Old Jock," sniffing with his nose up directly. "Why,
what the dickens have you got to be afraid of, man? We're now in the
open sea, with nothing in the shape of land near us for a hundred miles
or more anywhere you chose to cast the lead."

"But, you forget, sir," suggested the other good-humouredly, so as not
to anger the "old man," who was especially touchy about his navigation;
"you forget the rate the ship's going--over twelve knots?"

"No, I don't forget, Mister Mackay; and, if we were going twenty it
wouldn't make the slightest difference," retorted the captain, who was
thoroughly roused now, as the first mate could tell by his addressing
him as "Mister," which he never did unless pretty well worked up and in
a general state of temper. "I'd have you to know I'm captain of my own
ship; and when I say a thing I mean a thing! Call up the hands to try
and get some more sail on her; for I'm going to make the best of this
typhoon now, as it has made the best it could of me--one good turn
deserves another."

Of course there was no arguing with him after this; so all Mr Mackay
could do was to pass the word forward for Tim Rooney, and tell him what
Captain Gillespie's orders were--there was no good attempting to hail
the boatswain, for not a word shouted c