Taking advantage of the lift of the vessel as she threw her stern clear of a mountainous sea, Ellerton opened the steel sliding doorway sufficiently wide for the two chums to gain the poop. Staggering along the slippery, heaving deck, they reached the lee side of the deck-house, where, gripping the stout iron stanchion-rail, they awaited the next flash of lightning.
They had not long to wait. A brilliant, prolonged succession of flashes dazzled their eyes, the electric fluid playing on the wet planks and foam-swept waist of the plunging vessel.
The reason for the commotion was now apparent. One of the mainmast derricks had broken adrift, and, charging from side to side like a gigantic flail, had smashed the rail, crushed two steel ventilator-cowls, and utterly demolished two boats in the davits.
The crew, trying to secure the plunging mass of metal, were working with mad desperation, frequently up to their waists in water.
Two of the unfortunate men, crushed by the sweep of the derrick, had been hurled over the side, while another, his leg bent under him, lay helpless in the lee-scuppers, with only a few inches of broken bulwarks to prevent him from sharing the fate of his comrades.
"Stand by, Andy!" shouted Ellerton. "Take a couple of turns round this bollard," and throwing the end of a coil of signal-halliards to his friend, he made the other end fast round his waist and jumped down the poop-ladder.
He was only just in time. Another dazzling flash enabled him to see the helpless form of the crippled seaman, and as he wound his arms round the man's waist in an iron grip, a seething cataract of foam swept the deck.
