"Haul away again, men!" The Mate, clearing the blood of a head wound from his eyes, was again at the foretack giving slack. "Hell! what ye standing at? Haul away, blast ye! Haul an' rouse her up!"
Half-handed, we strained to raise the thundering canvas; the rest, with the Second Mate, were labouring at the spare spar, under which Houston, an ordinary seaman, lay jammed with his thigh broken. Pinching with handspikes, they got him out and carried aft, and joined us at the gear; and at last the sail was hauled up. "Aloft and furl," was the next order, and we sprang to the rigging in time to escape a second thundering 'grey-beard.'
It was dark, with a black squall making up to windward, as we laid out on the yard and grappled with the wet and heavy canvas. Once we had the sail up, but the wind that burst on us tore it from our stiffened fingers. Near me a grown man cried with the pain of a finger-nail torn from the flesh. We rested a moment before bending anew to the task.
"Handy now, laads!" the Second Mate at the bunt was roaring down the wind. "Stick t it, ma herts, ... hold aal, now! ... Damn ye, hold it, you. Ye haandless sojer! ... Up, m' sons; up an' hold aal."
Cursing the stubborn folds, swaying dizzily on the slippery footropes, shouting for hold and gasket, we fought the struggling wind-possessed monster, and again the leach was passed along the yard. A turn of the gasket would have held it, but even the leading hands at the bunt were as weak and breathless as ourselves. The squall caught at an open lug, and again the sail bellied out, thrashing fiendishly over the yard.
There was a low but distinct cry, "Oh, Christ!" from the quarter, and M'Innes, clutching wildly, passed into the blackness below. For a moment all hands clung desperately to the jackstay, fending the thrashing sail with bent heads; then some of the bolder spirits made to come off the yard.... "The starboard boat .... Who? ... Duncan ... It's Duncan gone.... Quick there, the star ... the lashings!"
The Second Mate checked their movement.
"No! No! Back, ye fools! Back, I say! Man canna' help Duncan now!"
He stood on the truss of the yard, grasping the stay, and swung his heavy sea-boot menacingly.
"Back, I say! Back, an' furl the sail, ... if ye wouldna' follow Duncan!"