“Ready, ho! ready!” he cried. All were standing ready at their posts. Then the word was given to the man at the wheel.
“Helm’s a-lee!” roared the captain. There was rattling of chains, flapping of canvas, and shuffling of feet.
“Mainsail h–a–u–aul!” bellowed the captain in a prolonged shout. Round went the great sail under the swift and strong pulls of willing hands.
“Let go, and h–a–u–aul!” once more roared out the captain in a voice of thunder.
It was just at this moment, when all was apparent confusion, when ropes were rattling, feet stamping, sails quivering, that Juniper Graves emerged from his cabin on to the main-deck, his head bare, and his sandy hair flying out wildly into the breeze. His eyes were strained and bloodshot, and his whole appearance was that of a person in an agony of terror. Aroused from his drunken sleep by the noise overhead, and terrified to find the vessel heeling over to the other side, he imagined, in his drunken bewilderment, that the ship had struck, and that himself and his gold were in danger of perishing with her. Filled with frenzy at this idea, he rushed out upon deck, where the general apparent confusion confirmed his fears; then he sprung upon the bulwarks, gazed around him in utter dismay at the crew in busy motion about him, tottered on his insecure standing-ground, caught at a rope to save himself; missed it, and then, with a terrible shriek of horror and despair, fell headlong overboard into the boiling waters.
“Save him! oh, save him!” cried Frank Oldfield imploringly. “Where is he? Let me go, let me go,” he screamed, for he was about to plunge overboard, and the captain was holding him back with his powerful grasp.
“It’s no use, Mr Oldfield; it’ll only be two lives instead of one.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” besought Frank; “put the ship about—lie-to—throw over a hen-coop, a life-buoy, for mercy’s sake—the poor wretch isn’t fit to die,” and he still struggled to free himself.
“Listen to reason, sir,” said the captain. “We can do nothing; the ship’s running nine knots, and no one knows where to look for him; nothing can save him, miserable man; he’s sunk no doubt, at once, and all the faster for having his gold about him.”
“Can nothing be done?” cried Frank, beseechingly.