When he reached the end of the timber, Harrigan wound his long arms
tightly around it and let his legs draw out on the water. McTee, seeing
the purpose of the maneuver, redoubled his efforts. On a wave crest the
storm swept Harrigan still farther away; then they dropped into a
hollow and instantly he felt a mighty grip fall on his ankle. They
pitched up again with the surge of a wave so sharp and sudden that what
with his own weight and the tugging burden of McTee behind him,
Harrigan felt as if his arms would be torn from their sockets. He kept
his hold by a mighty effort, and the tremendous grip of McTee held fast
on his ankle until they dropped once more into a hollow. Then the
captain jerked himself hand over hand up the body of Harrigan until he
reached the timber. They lay panting and exhausted on the stanchion,
embracing it with arms and legs.

Sometimes the wind sent the timber with its human freight lunging
through a towering wave; and several times the force of the storm
caught them and whirled them over and over. When they rose to a wave
crest, they struggled bitterly for life; when they fell into the
trough, they drew long breaths and freshened their holds.

Save once when Harrigan reached out his hand and set it upon that of
Black McTee. The captain met the grip, and by the wild moonlight they
stared into each other's faces. That handshake almost cost them their
lives, for the next moment the full breath of the storm caught them and
wrenched furiously at their bodies. Yet neither of them regretted the
handclasp, for all its cost. If they died now, it would be as brothers.
They had at least escaped from the greatest of all horrors, a lonely
death.

It seemed as if the storm acknowledged the strength of their