It is quite likely that there would have been more said on this occasion that would have led up to harder words, for there is nothing your idle sailor likes better than a quarrel, unless it be a good story. There was now, however, no time for either of those time-killers; for the lookout suddenly shouted that ominous word which always sends terror to the sailor’s heart:
“Breakers! Breakers off the starboard bow!”
In an instant all was confusion, and Martin Alonzo was shouting orders that sent the men flying about the vessel, some here and some there. The Pinta was suddenly brought about, and pointed almost at right angles to her course. Diego, Juan, Rodrigo, and Miguel, quick to the order of the captain, had jumped into the bow, and were hanging on by the low rail, awaiting the next word, when the Pinta swung around in the topping seas.
The frail craft quivered and shook for a moment, and then buried her nose in a monster wave. When she came up again a cry—wild and terrified—fell upon the ears of the men.
“Save him! save him! O Miguel!” The cry was from the lips of Juan.
And Rodrigo, straining his eyes from the other side of the deck, saw three terrible things: Diego dropping through the blackness of the night, Miguel with his hand upraised, Juan leaping from his place into the air.
“Man overboard!” yelled Rodrigo.
But the ship was in great danger, and no boat could live in such a sea; and so, though shuddering and anxious, Martin Alonzo continued to give orders, and the ship shot away through the waves after a moment of quivering hesitation.
“DIEGO DROPPING THROUGH THE BLACKNESS OF THE NIGHT.”