What kites she won't carry she can drag!"

An hour later I caught Tom Spink, just relieved from his shift at the
wheel and weak from exhaustion.

"What do you think now of the carpenter and his bag of tricks?" I
queried.

"Lord lumme, it should a-ben the mate, sir," was his reply.

By five in the afternoon we had logged 314 miles since five the previous
day, which was two over an average of thirteen knots for twenty-four
consecutive hours.

"Now take Captain Brown of the little _Vampire_," Mr. Pike grinned to me,
for our sailing made him good-natured. "He never would take in until the
kites an' stu'n'sails was about his ears. An' when she was blown' her
worst an' we was half-fairly shortened down, he'd turn in for a snooze,
an' say to us, 'Call me if she moderates.' Yes, and I'll never forget
the night when I called him an' told him that everything on top the
houses had gone adrift, an' that two of the boats had been swept aft and
was kindling-wood against the break of the cabin. 'Very well, Mr. Pike,'
he says, battin' his eyes and turnin' over to go to sleep again. 'Very
well, Mr. Pike,' says he. 'Watch her. An' Mr. Pike . . .' 'Yes, sir,'
says I. 'Give me a call, Mr. Pike, when the windlass shows signs of
comin' aft.' That's what he said, his very words, an' the next moment,
damme, he was snorin'."

* * * * *

It is now midnight, and, cunningly wedged into my bunk, unable to sleep,
I am writing these lines with flying dabs of pencil at my pad. And no
more shall I write, I swear, until this gale is blown out, or we are
blown to Kingdom Come.

CHAPTER XLI

The days have passed and I have broken my resolve; for here I am again
writing while the _Elsinore_ surges along across a magnificent, smoky,
dusty sea. But I have two reasons for breaking my word. First, and
minor, we had a real dawn this morning. The gray of the sea showed a
streaky blue, and the cloud-masses were actually pink-tipped by a really
and truly sun.

Second, and major, _we are around the Horn_! We are north of 50 in the
Pacific, in Longitude 80.49, with Cape Pillar and the Straits of Magellan
already south of east from us, and we are heading north-north-west. _We
are around the Horn_! The profound significance of this can be
appreciated only by one who has wind-jammed around from east to west.
Blow high, blow low, nothing can happen to thwart us. No ship north of
50 was ever blown back. From now on it is plain sail