the full in the back of my
oil-jacket, hauled me up the inclined deck again, and in a roaring
whisper said, "Get a hold here, Joey--here's a ring-bolt for you.
Don't let go on your life! Isn't it fine?" It was Clancy. He had
nights, I know, when he couldn't sleep, and like me, I suppose, he
wanted to watch the sea, which just then was firing grandly. Into this
sea the vessel was diving--nose first--bringing her bowsprit down,
down, down, and then up, up, up, until her thirty-seven-foot bowsprit
would be pointing to where the North star should be. Whenever she
heaved like that I could feel her deck swelling under me. I remember
when I used to play foot-ball at the high school at home and it was
getting handy to a touch-down, with perhaps only a few yards to gain
and the other side braced to stop it, that a fellow playing back had
to buck like that from under a line when he had to scatter tons, or
what he thought was tons, of people on top of him. The vessel was that
way now, only with every dive she had hundreds of tons to lift from
under. At a time like that you can feel the ribs of a vessel brace
within her just as if she was human. Now I could almost feel her heart
pumping and her lungs pounding somewhere inside. I could feel her
brace to meet it, feel her shiver, as if she was scared half to death,
and almost hear her screech like a winner every time she cleared it
and threw it over her head.

Now down she went--the Johnnie Duncan--down and forward, for she
wouldn't be held back--shoulders and breast slap into it. Clear to her
waist she went, fighting the sea from her. To either side were
tumbling the broken waves, curling away like beach combers. The hollow
of each was a curved sheet of electric white, and the top--the
crest--was a heavier, hotter white. The crests would rise above our
rail and break, and back into the hollows would fall a shower of
shooting stars that almost sizzled. There wasn't a star above, but
millions on the water!

"Ever see anything like that ashore, Joey-boy?" said Clancy, and I had
to roar a whisper that I never had.

Through this play of fire the Johnnie leaped with great bounds. She
boiled her way, and astern she left a wake in which the seine-boat was
rearing and diving with a fine little independent trail of its own.

Two men forward--the watch--were leaning over the windlass and peering
into the night. They were there for whatever they might see, but
particularly were they looki