was over. The wind was worsening, if anything, and we continued to
drive at a frightful angle. Now and again we slanted to a squall
that fairly dipped us till the sea poured half-way across her decks.
As I staggered forward--clutching at anything handy--to assure myself
that none of the boys had been flung off the fore-yard and overboard,
I heard a sea burst the starboard bulwarks, and in another moment,
while I yet wondered if the sound came from something parting aloft,
with a 'Wa-ay-oh!' Link had put over her helm, and the suddenly
altered slant flung me into the scuppers, where I dropped after
taking a knock against the standing rigging, the mark of which I
shall carry on my forehead till I die.

"By this time, sir, I was pretty well dazed. I forget if it was in a
couple of short tacks, or in three, that we fetched Picklecombe Point
on the western side. Then we put about on a long tack that carried
us well outside the breakwater and came in for Cawsand Bay and
safety. On this last fetch Link kicked me up and gave me the wheel
again, while he went forward to hunt up the spare anchor.

"We brought up, well in shelter, at something before two in the
morning, not a hand lost. Before anyone was allowed to turn in, Link
had every sail stowed and covered--'for the honour of the blasted
ship,' as he put it.

"The skipper and his precious lot came aboard next day not long
before noon, and after a wholesome scare. It seems they were late,
and all pretty so-so by the time they reached the Barbican Steps;
and, let be that there was no boat for them, the watermen one and all
declined to take them off in any such weather. Nothing for it but to
doss the night ashore, which they did. But I wouldn't give much for