in',' says
he. 'Let her drag. They's a better anchorage in there a bit. She'll take
the bottom agin afore she strikes them craft.'

"We was draggin' fast--bearin' straight down on the craft inside. They
was a trader an' two Labrador fishin'-craft. The handiest was a fishin'
boat, bound home with the summer's cotch, an' crowded with men, women,
an' kids. We took the bottom an' held fast within thirty fathom of her
bow. I could see the folk on deck--see un plain as I sees you--hands an'
lips an' eyes. They was swarmin' fore an' aft like a lot o' scared
seal--wavin' their arms, shakin' their fists, jabberin', leapin' about
in the wash o' the seas that broke over the bows.

"'Docks,' says the skipper, 'what's the matter with they folk, anyhow?
We isn't draggin', is we?' says he, half cryin'. 'We isn't hurtin'
_they_, is we?'

"An old man--'tis like he was skipper o' the craft--come runnin'
for'ard, with half a dozen young fellows in his wake. 'Sheer off!' sings
the old one. He jabbered a bit more, all the while wavin' us off, but a
squall o' wind carried it all away. 'We'll shoot you like dogs an you
don't!' says one o' the young ones; an' at that I felt wonderful mean
an' wicked an' sorry. Back aft they went. There they talked an' talked;
an' as they talked they pointed--pointed t' the breakers that was
boilin' over the black rocks; pointed t' the spumey sea an' t' the low,
ragged clouds drivin' across it; pointed t' the _Sink or Swim_. Then the
skipper took the wheel, an' the crew run for'ard t' the windlass an' jib
sheets.

"'Skipper, sir,' says I, 'they're goin' t' slip anchor an' run!'

"'Ay,' says Skipper Jim, 'they knows us, b'y! They knows the _Sink or
Swim_. We lies t' win'ard, an' they're feared o' the smallpox. They'll
risk that craft--women an' kids an' all--t' get away. They isn't a craft
afloat can beat t' sea in this here gale. They'll founder, lad, or
they'll drive on the rocks an' loss themselves, all hands. 'Tis an evil
day for this poor old schooner, Docks,' says he, with a sob, 'that
men'll risk the lives o' kids an' women t' get away from her; an' 'tis
an evil day for my crew.' With that he climbed on the rail, cotched the
foremast shrouds with one hand, put the other to his mouth, an' sung
out: 'Ahoy, you! Bide where you is! Bide where you is!' Then he jumped
down; an' he says t' me, 'tween gasps, for the leap an' shout had taken
all the breath out of un, 'Docks,' says he, 'they's only one thing f