's
putting a line in her," he added a minute or two later, during which
time excitement had prevented either of us from speaking. "Us'll know
in a second one way or t'other."

The crisis had soon arrived. The schooner had once more reached across
the harbour channel, and was for the last time "in stays." A decision
had to be arrived at instantly, and on it, and on the handling of the
vessel, depended her fate.

"He's game, sure enough, whoever he is. He's going for it hit or
miss." And there was a touch of excitement evidenced even in Jake's
undemonstrative exterior.

We could now plainly see the master. He was standing on the
cross-tree, whence he could tell, by looking into the water, almost to
an inch how far it was possible to go before turning.

"She'll do it, Jake, she'll do it. See, she's heading for the middle
of the run."

"She will if she does, and that's all, Doctor. She's falling off all
t' while."

It was only too true. The vessel could no longer head for the point.
Her sails were aback, shaking in the wind, and she now heading
straight for the rock itself. Surely she must at once try to come up
in the wind, stop her way, drop her sails, if possible throw out the
boat, and head for the open before she should strike on one side or
the other of the run.

But no, we could hear the stentorian tones of the skipper on the
cross-trees shouting that which to any but an experienced sailor must
have seemed certain suicide. "Keep her away! Keep her--full! Don't
starve her! Give her way! Up topsail!"--the latter having been let
down to allow the vessel to lie closer hauled to the wind. "Stand by
to douse the head sails! Stand by the topsail!" we heard him shout.
"Stand by to shoot her into the wind!"--and then at last, just as the
crash seemed inevitable, "Hard down! Shoot her up! Down sails!"

We up above, with our hearts in our mouths, saw the plucky little
vessel shoot true as a die up for the point. It was her only chance. I
am sure that I could have heard my own heart beating as I saw her rise
on the swell that ran up on the point, and it seemed to me she stopped
and hung there. But before I could be certain whether she was ashore
or not, another flood of the swell had rushed over the point, and she
was fairly swirled around and dropped down into the safety of the
harbour.

"It's time to be going, Doctor," Jake remarked as he rose from the
ground. "But I 'low t' point won't want painting t' winter," h