"What odds about the cups and saucers, so long as the Duke--God bless him!--is safe."
"And the men."
"And the men too--and the men too!"
By this time the Seabird was within a few cables' length of the southern or cliff side of Silver Bay. She was now keeping a little more to windward than she absolutely wanted, and, according to a landsman's eye, it might seem Captain Drew meant to run his ship ashore about the middle of the reef. But when you have your vessel well in hand, and know all about her, being a little to windward of where you want to fetch is like having a fine unencumbered estate and a large balance at your banker's, after paying the last penny you can be called upon for.
"Time for him to port now," said one of the men on shore.
"Nice of a mud-pilot like you to teach Captain Drew how to bring the Seabird into Silver Bay! Why, if you were an admiral you'd teach the ships how to graze on the side of mountains, and the marines how to furl a t'gallant sail, you would!"
"Port!" cried Captain Drew. He was standing by the weather-bulwark, abreast of the companion. "Hard a port!" he added.
"Port!" cried Pritchard, who was again at the wheel, as being the best helmsman aboard. The wheel flew round. "Hard a port it is!" called out Pritchard mechanically. The wheel had gone round, and it ought to have ported the helm; but he knew very well it had not. It had spun round as though nothing had been attached to it. When the first few spokes had been put down, the wheel had suddenly run away in the direction he had been forcing it. He looked instantly behind him, sprang forward to where the captain stood, and whispered in a choked hoarse voice:
"She won't answer, sir. The cap-iron's gone!"
"All hands aft! Cut away mainsail!" sang out the captain.