gasket, we fought the struggling wind-possessed
monster, and again the leach was passed along the yard. A turn of the
gasket would have held it, but even the leading hands at the bunt were
as weak and breathless as ourselves. The squall caught at an open lug,
and again the sail bellied out, thrashing fiendishly over the yard.

There was a low but distinct cry, "Oh, Christ!" from the quarter, and
M'Innes, clutching wildly, passed into the blackness below. For a
moment all hands clung desperately to the jackstay, fending the
thrashing sail with bent heads; then some of the bolder spirits made to
come off the yard.... "The starboard boat .... Who? ... Duncan ...
It's Duncan gone.... Quick there, the star ... the lashings!"

The Second Mate checked their movement.

"No! No! Back, ye fools! Back, I say! Man canna' help Duncan now!"

He stood on the truss of the yard, grasping the stay, and swung his
heavy sea-boot menacingly.

"Back, I say! Back, an' furl the sail, ... if ye wouldna' follow
Duncan!"

Slowly we laid out the yard again, and set sullenly to master Duncan's
murderer.

A lull came. We clutched and pounded at the board-like cloths, dug
with hooked fingers to make a crease for handhold, and at last turned
the sail to the yard, though lubberly and ill-furled.

One by one, as our bit was secured, we straggled down the rigging.
Some of the hands were aft on the lee side of the poop, staring into
the darkness astern--where Duncan was. Munro, utterly unmanned, was
crying hysterically. In his father's country manse, he had known
nothing more bitter than the death of a favourite collie. Now he was
at sea, and by his side a man muttered, "Dead?--My God, I hope he's
dead, ... out there!"

The Old Man crossed over from the weather side, and addressing the men,
said: "The Second Mate tells me ye wanted t' get t' th' boat when
M'Innes .... went.... I'm pleased that ye've that much guts in ye,
but I could risk no boat's crew in a sea like this.... Besides, I'm
more-ally certain that M'Innes was dead before he took the water. Eh,
Mister?"

"Aye ... dead," said the Mate. "I saw him strike the to'gal'nt rail,
and no man could live after a blow like that. Dead, sure!"

Old Jock returned to his post under the weather-cloth, and the Mate
ordered the watch below.

So Duncan took his discharge, and a few days later, in clearing
weather, his few belongings were sold at the mast. It was known that
h