master. What are your orders?"

"Unlash the boat covers," said he. "Get even the dingey ready.
Williams, close your hatch and bear a hand to swing the big boat out
in her davits. Set the bottom plugs in well. And Mr. Harry, you and
John, the Chink, had better get some stores and a case or so of
bottled water aboard the long boat. Have you got the slickers and rugs
ready, and plenty of clothes? We'll just be ready if it happens. I
don't know where that damned light or the damned channel is, but the
damned ducks maybe know where some damned thing is. We'll run for
them, if we can't ride her out."

We all hurried now, Jean Lafitte at my heels, silent and faithful as a
dog, aiding me as I piled blankets and coats and rugs from our cabin
into the ship's boat, which swayed and swung perilously at the davits.
What with the aid of John, the China boy, and Willy, the deck-hand, we
also got supplies aboard her, I scarce knew what, except that there
seemed abundance. And then we stood waiting for what might happen,
helpless in the hands of the offended elements, and silent all. I
held Jean's hand in my own. He was loyal to his mate, even now.
"Jimmy'd be here," he said. "'Course he would, only he's so awful
sick. I ain't sick--yet, but I feel funny, someway."

Peterson stood looking ahead, but was anxious. "She's coming up
stronger," said he, "and two points on the port quarter. We're going
on harder all the time. Anchor's dragging. Afraid we're going to lose
her, Mr. Harry."

"Hush!" said I, nodding to the boy. "And turn on the search-light. It
seems to me I hear breakers in there."

"That's so," said the old man. "Hook on the light's battery, Williams,
and let's see what we can see."

The strong beam, wavering from side to side, plowed a furry path into
the fog. It disclosed at first only the succession of angry incoming
waves, each, as it passed, thudding us down on the bar of shell and
mud and slime. But at last, off to starboard and well astern in our
new position, riding at anchor, we raised a faint white line of broken
water which seemed a constant feature; and now and then caught the low
boom of the surf.

"She ain't a half mile, over yonder," I heard Willy, the deck-hand,
say. "An' we could almost walk it if it wasn't for the sea."

"Yes, sir," said Williams, "we'd do fine in there now, with them
boats. When we hit that white water----"

"Shut up!" ordered Peterson. "Safe as a church, here or there, you
lubbe