Meantime, the storm had crashed and roared to the point of its fullest fury. There was not very much wind, but the rain was like a cloudburst, and lightning seemed to strike on all sides of the schooner at once.
“Help! Help!” bawled the voice of the skipper. “I can’t hold out much longer!”
They paid no attention, but set to work quickly to rig up a sea anchor.
“Take that broken jigger topmast,” ordered the mate, “and slash a piece of canvas—that will do—just slash it on there, and get some leads for the bottom....” When it was launched, the sea anchor made the schooner head up out of the trough.
Orders had to be shouted and reshouted on account of the fearful uproar of the skies.
“On the port side—”
“The rudder—”
Men called out and ran here and there shouting. But always the voice that dominated even the fury of the storm was the voice of the ship’s master out in the sea.
“Help! Help! Let down that boat, you swine!”