aback. If we were, I knew our lives were only questions of seconds.
All sounds from below were silenced in the roar about us, but flash
after flash, following rapidly in succession, showed me momentary
glimpses of the deck.

We were far over the water as the _Pirate_ was laying down with her
topgallant rail beneath the sea. The mizzen topsail had disappeared, as
though made of vapor, leaving the mizzen clear. Forward, the two topsails
and fore topmast staysail were holding, but between the flashes the upper
canvas melted away like a puff of steam, the ragged ends flying and
thrashing into long ribbons to leeward. Three men were on the yard when I
looked at first, and then, almost instantly afterward, the yard was bare.
Whether they had gone overboard I could not tell, but the thought made me
look to myself while I might.

Pulling myself along the jackstay until I reached the bunt, I managed to
grasp a line that was tailing taut downward toward the deck. This I
grasped quickly with both hands, and bawling with all my might to Jackson
and Davis to follow, I swung clear of the yard. Looking below, the sea
appeared as white as milk in the ghastly light, with the ship's outline
now dimly discernible in contrast. I breathed a prayer that the line was
fast amidships and slid down. There was a terrific ripping instantly
overhead, and I knew the topsail had gone. The line bowed out with the
wind, but led toward the deck near the mast, and in a moment my feet
struck the fife rail. I was safe for the present. Jackson followed close
upon me, but Davis was unable to get the line. He was never seen again.

Making my way aft by the aid of the weather rail, I reached the poop and
climbed up the steps. The wind nearly swept me from my feet, but I
managed to crawl aft to where I could make out by the flashes the forms