e deck all was now deadly still; and in that grim silence the hard
breathing of the excited crew could be heard as they watched the
solitary man at his fearful task. Would it _never_ be over? Crash after
crash the cruel waves came bursting upon him, and all could see that his
strength was beginning to fail.

But the work is nearly done! A few more hammer strokes and he is safe.
Already the anxious crew are beginning to breathe more freely, and even
to greet their hero with encouraging shouts, when suddenly a mountain
wave is seen coming right down upon him.

"Look out, Allen!" roar the sailors, with one voice.

Allen casts one glance up at the overhanging mass, and then twines his
arms and limbs around the "open-work" of the paddle-box with the
strength of desperation. The next moment there comes a stunning shock
and a deafening crash, and all is one whirl of blinding spray and
seething foam, amid which nothing can be heard and nothing seen. But
when the rush passes, the brave man is still there.

A shout of joy arises, but is instantly followed by a terrible cry. _The
safety-line around Allen's body has parted!_

"Grapple him with boat-hooks, some o' ye!" roars the boatswain. "Fling
him a rope!--quick! or he's lost."

[Illustration: MAN OVERBOARD!]

But before any of the hands stretched toward the doomed man could reach
him, his stiffened fingers lost their hold. For one moment he was seen
balanced in mid-air, with his imploring glance cast upward at the stanch
comrades who were powerless to save him, and then down he went into the
roaring sea.

There was an instant rush to the life-boat; but it was barely half way
to the water when a huge sea dashed it against the ship's side, crushing
it like an egg-shell. This was the last chance. An arm tossing wildly
through the foam of a distant wave, a faint cry borne past on the wind,
and poor Allen was gone forever.

Then, amid the dismal silence, was heard, clear and strong, the firm
voice of the captain:

"Lads, I won't _order_ any of you to run such a risk; but this job must
be done somehow, or we shall all go to the bottom together. Fifty
dollars to any man who'll volunteer!"

A dozen men sprang forward at once; but quick as they were, there was
_one_ before them--and that one was Frank Austin. Unnoticed by all, he
had knotted a rope around his waist, fastened the other end to an iron
stanchion, and before any one could stop him, down he slid to the
perilous