of Trunnell and the skipper.

"She'll go off soon," yelled the mate in my ear. "Nothin' gone forrads
yet, hey?"

"Only the canvas and a couple of men," I yelled in reply.

The wind began to draw further and further aft, showing that the ship was
gradually gathering headway in spite of her list to starboard. Soon she
began to right herself in the storm-torn sea. All was white as snow about
us, and the whiteness gave a ghastly light in the gloom. I could now make
out the maintopsail, dimly, from where I stood, and the outline of the
hull forward. Evidently the fore lower topsail was holding still.
Jackson, who was tall and strong, and who was an American by adoption,
was put to the lee wheel, as his knowledge of English made him quick to
obey. John, a Swede, built very broad with stooping shoulders, and
Erikson, a Norwegian with a great blond head and powerful neck, grasped
the weather spokes. Bill, the other quartermaster, had not shown up, and
we found later that he was one of the missing from the fore topsail yard.

Trunnell and Captain Thompson called the men aft to the poop, and away we
went into the gloom ahead.

She was doing a good fifteen knots under her two, or rather one storm
topsail; for we found out afterward that the fore had gone almost
instantly after she had payed off. The water was roaring white astern,
and the wind blew so hard that it was impossible to face it for more than
a moment. The sea was making fast, and I began to wonder how long the
vessel could run before the great heave which I knew must soon follow us.