e had said was in reality a real shoal, draw
steadily astern; and he brightened at thought of the danger overcome.
Then out of a clear sky came the unforeseen.

From the forecastle head sounded the crash and rattle of chain and a
resounding splash. The roar of cable followed, amid a volley of thumping
deep-sea oaths from Rolfe directed at the devoted head of Little; and
the _Barang_ snubbed up with a jerk, her stern swinging swiftly around
towards the bar.

Little stood aghast, replying nothing to the mate's harsh epithets.
Barry bawled a demand as to the trouble and turned to the wheel. Again
that subtle suggestion of padded steel struck him as he surprised a
fleeting but unmistakable smile on Vandersee's calm face.

"I think Mr. Little has unwittingly slipped the tumblers, sir," smiled
the big Hollander, stepping away from the useless wheel.

"To hell with Little!" shouted Barry. "Get a boat out, before we plow
up that sand!"

Then he hailed forward:

"Mr. Rolfe! Get lines. Carry them to those trees. Hurry!" and to Little
he barked: "You, Little, get aft here, and for God's own sake, keep your
meddling hooks off things as you come!"

Little started aft, abashed at last. The careful manner in which he
avoided contact with crew or gear would have made Barry grin under any
other circumstances; but now near disaster impended, simply on account
of the irrepressible salesman's voracious appetite for knowledge.

As he approached the poop ladder, Little grimaced up at the skipper and
shrugged his shoulders resignedly in anticipation of the storm. Barry's
face was flushed and angry, and his strong teeth shone white over his
compressed nether lip. The brigantine's stern was awfully close to the
edge of the bar, in spite of the swift action of Vandersee, who, in
leaving the wheel and before going down to his boat, let go the big
mainsail and took the after pressure off the vessel. Now the big second
mate hailed from the top of the midship house.

"This boat's all open, sir. She won't float a minute!"

"Oh, blazes!" howled the skipper, flinging his cap on the deck. "Send a
man to swim with the line. Any of them. They're all water rats."

"Can't make a man swim here, sir," returned the Hollander, and even now
his voice was velvety soft. "Alligators are too thick."

Little paused on the bottom step of the ladder. He measured with his eye
the distance to the nearest point ashore. Fifty yards it was; and on the
water's