CHAPTER XI
"THE STORMFIEND"
"Crojjick buntlines and clew-garnets!" roared Black Davis.
The men stumbled clumsily round the fife-rail and groped about in the darkness for the right ropes; then, like sundry tug-of-war teams, stood waiting for the word.
"Ready with your tack there, bosun?" called the mate.
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"Haul away!" came the order.
"Hoo-oop, come in with her! Ho-yah, an' she must!" sang Jack, giving time to the hauling.
"Hand over hand, hand over hand!" yelled the bosun.
"Yo-ho-yo-ho-oh-yo-har!"