Give me the helm!" With sweat bursting from his brow the
captain caught the tiller and put it hard over. The ship shook a bit,
swerved, yet made side-wise toward the green patch on the sea. The
land was looming large now.

"'Tis not in the rudder to keep her off, sir," called a mate who had
gone forward. "'Tis the leeway she is making."

"There's a scant breeze."

"Ay, but there must be a fearsome current."

"I see no sign of it. This water is smooth as any pond."

"But you see for yourself, she's gaining on the shore. Look, now,
how we're passing that patch o' water-weed."

"I think hell is under us. Have up the clerk and put him at prayers,
and you fellows take in sail--each rag of it--that if we strike we
may go easy. Call all hands. See that the boats are clear. She minds
her helm no more than a straw. God help us!"

The galleon was at the edge of the shoal spot now, and all held their
breath, expecting to hear the grinding of the keel on a bank; but,
no, she floated in safety.

"Sound!" commanded the captain. "There may be anchorage."

"Four fathom," called the sailor at the lead after he had made
his cast.

"Stand by to let go. We'll tie up here till the tide turns or the
spell's worked out. Alive--alive, there! Get that anchor overboard."

"It be wedged agin the bulwark, captain, and needs another pair o'
hands."

"Forward all! Why, you lump, the flukes are clear. What ails you? Lift
all. There!"

With an united heave the sailors raised the barbed iron and cast it
over the side. The faces of all dripped and went white, and their
knees bent then, for the anchor flew from their hands and struck
the sea quite twenty feet away,--in deep water, for the shoal was
passed,--and the chain paid out like rope as the iron sank, yet not
straight down. It rattled off toward the shore.

"We've had krakens and mermaids and all variety of horrid beasts,"
said one old tar, with his jaw a-shaking, "and now the foul fiend
has that anchor, and is pulling us ashore with it."

The chain had run out to its length, but the anchor had found no
bottom. A cracking and grinding of the links could be heard, as if a
tug of war were going on between two giants that had this chain between
them. Bits of rust powdered off, and the strain was tearing splinters
from the timbers. A loud snap,--the chain had parted. Down went the
anchor, but again not straight,--off toward the land, and one free
link of the chain shot as if from a