the weight of it, and looked quickly overside.

"The wind is making all the time," he announced. "The old girl's
doing nearer twelve than eleven right now. If this keeps up, we'll be
shortening down tonight."

All day the Pyrenees, carrying her load of living fire, tore across the
foaming sea. By nightfall, royals and topgallantsails were in, and she
flew on into the darkness, with great, crested seas roaring after her.
The auspicious wind had had its effect, and fore and aft a visible
brightening was apparent. In the second dog-watch some careless soul
started a song, and by eight bells the whole crew was singing.

Captain Davenport had his blankets brought up and spread on top the
house.

"I've forgotten what sleep is," he explained to McCoy. "I'm all in. But
give me a call at any time you think necessary."

At three in the morning he was aroused by a gentle tugging at his arm.
He sat up quickly, bracing himself against the skylight, stupid yet from
his heavy sleep. The wind was thrumming its war song in the rigging, and
a wild sea was buffeting the PYRENEES. Amidships she was wallowing first
one rail under and then the other, flooding the waist more often than
not. McCoy was shouting something he could not hear. He reached out,
clutched the other by the shoulder, and drew him close so that his own
ear was close to the other's lips.

"It's three o'clock," came McCoy's voice, still retaining its dovelike
quality, but curiously muffled, as if from a long way off. "We've
run two hundred and fifty. Crescent Island is only thirty miles away,
somewhere there dead ahead. There's no lights on it. If we keep running,
we'll pile up, and lose ourselves as well as the ship."

"What d' ye think--heave to?"

"Yes; heave to till daylight. It will only put us back four hours."

So the Pyrenees, with her cargo of fire, was hove to, bitting the teeth
of the gale and fighting and smashing the pounding seas. She was a
shell, filled with a conflagration, and on the outside of the shell,
clinging precariously, the little motes of men, by pull and haul, helped
her in the battle.

"It is most unusual, this gale," McCoy told the captain, in the lee of
the cabin. "By rights there should be no gale at this time of the year.
But everything about the weather has been unusual. There has been a
stoppage of the trades, and now it's howling right out of the trade
quarter." He waved his hand into the darkness, as if his vision could
dimly