ashore in her; which was clean contrary to regulations, of course,
but there happened to be a cinematograph show they all wanted to see
at the big music-hall--some prize-fight or other. I don't set much
store by prize-fights for my part, and living pictures give me the
headache: so, to salve everybody's conscience, I was left in sole
charge of the ship.

"Everything went smooth as a buttered cake until about nine o'clock,
when the wind, that had been dying down all the time, suddenly flew
west and began to gather strength hand over fist. . . . I never, not
being a seaman, could have believed--till I saw and felt it--the
change that came over Plymouth Sound in the space of one half-hour.
The gig had been ordered again for nine-thirty, to pull to the
Barbican Steps and be ready at ten to bring the officers on board.
But before nine-thirty I began to have my serious doubts about
sending her. It was just as well I had.

"For by nine-forty-five it was blowing a real gale, and by ten
o'clock something like a hurricane. Just then, to top my terror,
Master Link Andrew came aft to me--the wind seemed to blow him
along--and 'I beg your pardon, Mr. Wilkins,' said he, 'but in my
opinion she's dragging.'

"Just think of it, sir! There was I, in sole charge of a hundred boys
or so, and knowing no more what to do than the ship's cat. . . . She
_was_ dragging, too; sagging foot by foot in towards the dark of
Jennycliff Bay.

"'If you'll take a word from me, sir,' said Link, 'we'd best up sail
and get out of this.'