d and motion, for the _Elsinore_
drove over and through and under those huge graybeards that thundered
shore-ward. There were times, when rolls and gusts worked against her at
the same moment, when I could have sworn the ends of her lower-yardarms
swept the sea.

It was one chance in ten that we could claw off. All knew it, and all
knew there was nothing more to do but await the issue. And we waited in
silence. The only voice was that of the mate, intermittently cursing,
threatening, and ordering Tom Spink and the Maltese Cockney at the wheel.
Between whiles, and all the while, he gauged the gusts, and ever his eyes
lifted to the main-topgallant-yard. He wanted to set that one more sail.
A dozen times I saw him half-open his mouth to give the order he dared
not give. And as I watched him, so all watched him. Hard-bitten, bitter-
natured, sour-featured and snarling-mouthed, he was the one man, the
henchman of the race, the master of the moment. "And where," was my
thought, "O where was the Samurai?"

One chance in ten? It was one in a hundred as we fought to weather the
last bold tooth of rock that gashed into sea and tempest between us and
open ocean. So close were we that I looked to see our far-reeling
skysail-yards strike the face of the rock. So close were we, no more
than a biscuit toss from its iron buttress, that as we sank down into the
last great trough between two seas I can swear every one of us held
breath and waited for the _Elsinore_ to strike.

Instead we drove free. And as if in very rage at our escape, the storm
took that moment to deal us the mightiest buffet of all. The mate felt
that monster sea coming, for he sprang to the wheel ere the blow fell. I
looked for'ard, and I saw all for'ard blotted out by the mountain of
water that fell aboard. The _Elsinore_ righted from the shock and
reappeared to the eye, full of water from rail to rail. Then a gust
caught her sails and heeled her over, spilling half the enormous burden
outboard again.

Along the bridge came the relayed cry of "Man overboard!"

I glanced at the mate, who had just released the wheel to the helmsmen.
He shook his head, as if irritated by so trivial a happening, walked to
the corner of the half-wheelhouse, and stared at the coast he had
escaped, white and black and cold in the moonlight.

Mr. Mellaire came aft, and they met beside me in the lee of the chart-
house.

"All hands, Mr. Mellaire," the mate said, "and