hing for
him--we could only hold on for our lives; but the very next sea washed
him right on deck again. He never gave a cry, but I heard him say
`Praise the Lord!' in his own quiet way when he laid hold o' the
starboard shrouds beside me.

"Just then another sea came aboard an' a'most knocked the senses out o'
me. At the same moment I heard a tremendous crash, an' saw the mast go
by the board. What happened after that I never could rightly
understand. I grabbed at something--it felt like a bit of plank--and
held on tight, you may be sure, for the cold had by that time got such a
hold o' me that I knew if I let go I would go down like a stone. I had
scarce got hold of it when I was seized round the neck by something
behind me an' a'most choked.

"I couldn't look round to see what it was, but I could see a great black
object coming straight at me. I knew well it was a smack, an' gave a
roar that might have done credit to a young walrus. The smack seemed to
sheer off a bit, an' I heard a voice shout, `Starboard hard! I've got
him,' an' I got a blow on my cocoanut that well-nigh cracked it. At the
same time a boat-hook caught my coat collar an' held on. In a few
seconds more I was hauled on board of the _Cherub_ by Manx Bradley, an'
the feller that was clingin' to my neck like a young lobster was Fred
Martin. The _Saucy Jane_ went to the bottom that night."

"An' Black Thomson--did he go down with her?" asked Duffy.

"Ay, that was the end of him and all the rest of the crew. The fleet
lost five smacks that night."

"Admiral's a-signallin', sir," said one of the watch on deck, putting
his head down the hatch at that moment.

Lockley went on deck at once. Another moment, and the shout came
down--"Haul! Haul all!"

Instantly the sleepers turned out all through the fleet. Oiled frocks,
sou'-westers, and long boots were drawn on, and the men hurried on the
decks to face the sleet-laden blast and man the capstan bars, with the
prospect before them of many hours of hard toil--heaving and hauling and
fish-cleaning and packing with benumbed fingers--before the dreary
winter night should give place to the grey light of a scarcely less
dreary day.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE TEMPTER'S VICTORY.

"I wouldn't mind the frost or snow, or anything else," growled Joe
Stubley, pausing in the midst of his labours among the fish, "if it
warn't for them sea-blisters. Just look at that, Jim," he added,
turning up the ha