"Handsomely, ye dogs, handsomely!" shrieked Spotted Dog in turn. The anchor sank into the boat to the screeching of tackles and the groaning of boat-timbers, and was carried out astern.
"Carry the end aft!" Dolores commanded; the hawser was taken along and the end passed around the quarter-deck capstan. "Up with those sails!" cried the girl now, and Caliban's gang sweated at the halyards, while slackened sheets permitted the booms to swing and present the luffs to the screaming gale, bearing no resistance. While the boat pulled away into the darkness astern, carrying the anchor to the full scope of the cable, Dolores kept her eyes ever aloft, and over the sea, and upon every detail of the work. Her eyes fell upon Peters, standing in sullen mood at the belaying-pin which held a turn of the main-throat halyards. And as the croaking cry of Caliban ordered "Belay!" she called Peters to her.
"Thou'rt sailing-master, hey?"
"I was."
"Art still, if thy heart is as stubborn as thy face!" cried Dolores, laughing at his scowl. "Canst sail thy ship now?"
"I can sail any ship that floats, but neither I nor your sharks can sail this schooner now," he replied surlily. "Your false marks did their work well."
"Then thou'd rather pull a rope than hold a wheel, hey? 'Tis but a wooden sailor, after all. I hoped such a ship would boast a seaman as master. I'll show thee seamanship, sheep-heart!"
Out of the darkness astern came a roar:
"Anchor's down! Heave away!"
And from the darkness aloft Stumpy bawled: