On this day, Hank, coming up to relieve George at the wheel, found Tommie talking to George; at the same moment Jake rose from the foc’sle hatch to relieve Candon. Candon’s back was turned to Jake who wished to pass him.
“Now then, you big stiff,” cried Jake, “shift yourself, will you?”
Then the explosion came.
Candon wheeled. Next moment Jake, caught by the waistband, went flying over the port rail, tossed away like a rag doll; the next, Candon was after him; the next, the Heart of Ireland, answering to the helm, was turning and coming up into the wind with all her canvas thrashing.
“Over with the dinghy,” cried George, giving the wheel to Tommie, and letting go the halyards.
Tommie, without a word, watched, as the two men got the dinghy afloat. Then she was alone.
She ran to the rail for a moment and saw away on the lifting swell, the heads of Candon and Jake close together, Candon evidently supporting the other and the boat making straight for them.
Ten minutes later the boat was back and Jake, half drowned, was being hauled on board, Candon helping. Then Candon took him down to the foc’sle to revive him. The Heart was put on her course again and the incident was closed.
Next day, Jake, subdued, went on with his work and Candon with his, absolutely as though nothing had happened.
The day after that, with the American coast showing to starboard and San Francisco not far ahead, Candon spoke to Hank.