to the binnacle. Convalescents need sleep. Ransome, his back propped
against the mizzen-mast and a blanket over his legs, remained perfectly
still, but I don't suppose he closed his eyes for a moment. That
embodiment of jauntiness, Frenchy, still under the delusion that there
was a "jump" left in him, had insisted on joining us; but mindful of
discipline, had laid himself down as far on the forepart of the poop as
he could get, alongside the bucket-rack.

And I steered, too tired for anxiety, too tired for connected thought.
I had moments of grim exultation and then my heart would sink awfully at
the thought of that forecastle at the other end of the dark deck, full
of fever-stricken men--some of them dying. By my fault. But never mind.
Remorse must wait. I had to steer.

In the small hours the breeze weakened, then failed altogether. About
five it returned, gentle enough, enabling us to head for the roadstead.
Daybreak found Mr. Burns sitting wedged up with coils of rope on the
stern-grating, and from the depths of his overcoat steering the ship
with very white bony hands; while Ransome and I rushed along the decks
letting go all the sheets and halliards by the run. We dashed next up on
to the forecastle head. The perspiration of labour and sheer nervousness
simply poured off our heads as we toiled to get the anchors cock-billed.
I dared not look at Ransome as we worked side by side. We exchanged curt
words; I could hear him panting close to me and I avoided turning my
eyes his way for fear of seeing him fall down and expire in the act of
putting forth his strength--for what? Indeed for some distinct ideal.

The consummate seaman in him was aroused. He needed no directions. He
knew what to do. Every effort, every movement was an act of consistent
heroism. It was not for me to look at a man thus inspired.

At last all was ready and I heard him say:

"Hadn't I better go down and open the compressors now, sir?"

"Yes. Do," I said.

And even then I did not glance his way. After a time his voice came up
from the main deck.

"When you like, sir. All clear on the windlass here."

I made a sign to Mr. Burns to put the helm down and let both anchors go
one after another, leaving the ship to take as much cable as she wanted.
She took the best part of them both before she brought up. The loose
sails coming aback ceased their maddening racket above my head. A
perfect stillness reigned in the ship. And while I stood forwa