Three shrouds are severed. The mast wavers, staggers, and finally goes down by the board, smashing in its fall the starboard bulwarks. Down leaps Pandoo now, and throwing the bight of the rope off over his head, lays lustily on at the other shrouds, and soon the mast, which was acting as a battering-ram, and might easily have stove the little craft, was now free, and floated away to windward.
The vessel had slowly righted; but deprived of all sail save the storm-jib, she was but a mere rolling log in the billowy ocean.
The position of the vessel was now dangerous in the extreme.
And yet in the midst of all the danger something had occurred which caused both the captain and trusty Pandoo to laugh most heartily.
“Oh, look—look, sah, look,” cried Pandoo, pointing aft with his brown hand.
Antonio did look, and lo! there on the weather side of the wheel, holding the spokes as naturally as any old sailor could have done, stood Teenie, the wee fisher lassie, with her short red frock, bare feet, and hair floating free on the wind.
A most beautiful picture she looked, as contrasted with the stern-set features and form of the sturdy Dane.
But even he could not help smiling.
Antonio ran aft.
“O my dearie, dearie,” he cried, “you must go below.”