as he was in a rubber suit that bound his arms and
tied his great legs together. And he understood too
the sea's game, and that the only way to outwit it
would be to use the beast's own tactics. When it
gathered itself for the thrust and started in to hurl
the doomed vessel the full length of its mighty arms,
the sloop's only safety lay in widening the space. A
cushion of backwater would then receive the sloop's
forefoot in place of the snarling teeth of low crunching
rocks.

He had kicked off both shoes by this time and was
shouting out directions to Baxter, who was slowly
and surely being sucked into the swirl:--

"Up with your jib! No,--NO! Let that mainsail
alone! UP! Do ye want to git her on the stone
pile, you? Port your helm! PORT! O GOD!--
Look at him!!"

Captain Joe had slid from the platform now and
was flopping his great body over the slimy, slippery
rocks like a seal, falling into water holes every other
step, crawling out on his belly, rolling from one slanting
stone to another, shouting to his men, every time
he had the breath:--

"Man that yawl and run a line as quick as God'll
let ye--out to the buoy! Do ye hear? Pull that
fall off the drum of the h'ister and git the end of a