“Bill,â€� he said sagely, “has got, I think, some broken ribs. One side. Can’t see what’s wrong with the old ’un. But they both be sleepin’ and so aint hurted, now. Cut the boot off ’ee, lad, and fall to. Heed what I tell ’ee, because ’ee must stay here by them—stay to the last, lad, no matter what may happen, for I be goin’ on deck to bring the I’ll Try home.â€�
And then, quickly, knowing that at any moment death might interrupt, Captain Josh gave all the instructions he could, and while he talked, fashioned for his broken arm a sling. He squatted down on the floor in front of the boy so that the lad’s hands could tie the knots. Once he admonished him.
“Tighter, lad! Tighter! Make ’em fast so they can’t slip loose.�
He climbed laboriously up the companion steps, bent over and called reassuringly: “I be goin’ to shut ’ee in, so if mayhap more rough weather comes, the wash wont drown ’ee out. So doan’t be afraid. I'll be at the wheel and—we’ll go home, lad, somehow.â€�
But when alone he looked at the skies, at the sea and at the sails, and shook his head.
“Lord God of all the seas,� he cried, lifting his head and reverently closing his fatigued and pain-stricken eyes, “for the sake of all they below, help thy unworthy servant, who is so old, so broken, so tired, to take the I’ll Try home. But if it be Thy will that we are to see no harbor lights again but those by Thy everlasting gates, pray let use see them shine clear to bring us to Thy port.�
He rolled aft to the wheel that swayed helplessly to and fro, and using alternately his hand and knee against the spokes, brought the staggering ship up to her work. She seemed grateful for the attention, and eager to respond. Her mere rags of red sails filled, and she was ready to fight the storm.
“Good old girl! Good old girl!� Captain Josh muttered approvingly. “That’s it! Take hold of the wind. Hang on to it!�
For an hour she half fought, half fled with that nearly motionless figure steering her, and yet the storm showed no signs of abatement. The dusk came early, filled with flying clouds, with wind-torn spray and the unceasing charge of great waves. Captain Josh shifted anxious eyes skyward, seeking some hope of a break. In all his sixty years at sea he had never been more troubled and perplexed.
“If only there’d come a lull at sunset,â€� he muttered aloud after the long stillness, and was slightly startled by the sound of his own voice. He considered for a moment whether it was better to think aloud, for the companionship of that sound, or to keep his lips shut. For the time being he chose the former method and went on: “I can’t make or douse sail with one hand, and I be so damned tired now that it hurts. It’s mighty risky to let her fall off; but—us must have lights! I’ve just got to take the chance and let her come round. There’s nothing else to be done.â€�