ours an' only needs be asked the right way."

We were now shooting through that fog like lost wild things, like the
ducks and geese bewildered of a stormy night, which mangle themselves
against the wire nettings of light houses. Now and then the land abeam
would give forth response to the booming of our whistle. The old man
Sammy had taken the wheel and his grim face was frozen into an expression
of desperate energy, as his keen little grey eyes peered through the
murk. By this time there was a heavy roll and our tall spars were
slashing at the mist as if seeking to cut down an unseen enemy. Every
man on board was under a nervous tension, conscious that a big thing was
being done. For a time there had been something akin to fear in all
our hearts, but after a while it left us, to make room for the delirium
of blind, reckless speed.

And then, suddenly, like a flash, the captain grasped the old fellow's
shoulder.

"Slow down, man," he shrieked. "I bet all I've got you don't know where
you are, and I can hear waves breaking ashore."

But Sammy lifted up his hand, with an authority that seemed inspired, and
gave another pull at the whistle cord. It brought forth a sound that was
repeated, again and again, confusedly. For a frightfully long half minute
we kept up our speed; then the bell jingled in the engine-room and we
slowed down a little. Under the old fisherman's hands the wheel began to
spin around while we breathlessly watched him aim the ship at the furious
breakers inshore, at the foot of dark cliffs.

"For God's sake! What are you doing?" yelled the captain.