"Anyhow, it is tough!" he laments.
The wind is perhaps less boisterous since the engine slacked. The rays of light from the cabin lamps pierce and split the waves. Corkey never saw so much foam before.
"It's an easy good-bye for all of us," he says, and falls ill.
But shall he wait for the Africa to settle?
"She'll pull me down, sure!" he comments.
Shall he wait much longer, then?
"All them roosters will be up here, and then we can't do nothing. Yet I wish I had somebody with me. Oh, Lockwin! I say, hello! Old man! Lockwin! Come up this way!"
For a moment there is nothing to be heard but the furious whistling of the gale about the mast in front. There is nobody in the wheel-house to the best of Corkey's eyesight.
There are three or four booming sounds. Corkey is startled. They are repeated.
It is the yawl making its hollow sound.