she was being slacked upright. "Just in time," he muttered.

They brought the bark to anchor near the beach, about a half-mile from
the brig, furled the canvas, and ran out an anchor astern, with the
cable over the taffrail. Heaving on this, they brought the vessel
parallel with the shore. So far, good. Guns and cargo lightered ashore,
more anchors seaward to keep her off the beach, masthead tackles to the
trees to heave her down, and preventer rigging and braces to assist the
masts, would have been next in order, but they proceeded no further
toward careening. Instead, they lowered the two crazy boats,
provisioned and armed them on the in-shore side of the bark, made
certain other preparations--and waited.

On the deck of the English brig things were moving. A gang of
blue-jackets, under the first lieutenant, were heaving in the cable;
another gang, under the boatswain, were sending down and stowing away
the heavy tackles and careening-gear, tailing out halyards and sheets
and coiling down the light-running rigging, while topmen aloft loosed
the canvas to bunt-gaskets, ready to drop it at the call from the deck.

The second lieutenant, overseeing this latter, paced the port
quarter-deck and answered remarks from Captain Bunce, who paced the
sacred starboard side (the brig being at anchor) and occasionally
turned his glass on the dilapidated craft down the beach.

"Seems to me, Mr. Shack," he said across the deck, "that an owner who
would send that bark around the Horn, and the master who would take
her, ought to be sequestered and cared for, either in an asylum or in
jail."

"Yes, sir, I think so too," answered the second lieutenant, looking
aloft. "Might be an insurance job. Clear away that bunt-gasket on the
royal-yard," he added in a roar.

Captain Bunce--round, rosy, with brilliant mutton-chop
whiskers--muttered: "Insurance--wrecked intentionally--no, not here
where we are; wouldn't court investigation by her Majesty's officers."
He rolled forward, then aft, and looked again through the glass.

"Very large crew--very large," he said; "very curious, Mr. Shack."

A hail from the forecastle, announcing that the anchor was short,
prevented Mr. Shack's answering. Captain Bunce waved a deprecatory hand
to the first lieutenant, who came aft at once, while Mr. Shack
descended to the waist, and the boatswain ascended the forecastle steps
to attend to the anchor. The first lieutenant now had charge of the
brig, and