watched for the line he knew was coming, and wherein lay his only
slender hope of safety.

My father swung his arm and cast. Swift and true fled the coils
from his hand--but fell short by two fathoms or less, and the boat
swept past our bows, as the men held their breath, watching and
ashamed.

But I also had caught up the coil from the after deck, fearing lest
my father should not have been in time, while the hawk fluttered
and gripped my arm in such wise that at any other time I should
have cried out with the pain of the sharp piercing of its talons.
Yet it would not leave me.

The boat flew on, but the man had his eyes on me--not looking
vainly for the lost end of the first line among the foam as many
another man would--and I saw that he was ready.

I threw; and the hawk screamed and clutched, as it lost its
balance, and beat my face with its great wings, and I could not see
for its fluttering; but the men shouted, and I heard my father's
voice cry "Well done!" Then I made fast the end of the line round
the main-sheet cleat, for that told me that the man had caught on.

Then the bird was still, and I looked up. I saw the boat pass
astern as the man made fast the line round the fore thwart, with
his eyes on the wave that came. Then he sprang to the steering oar,
and in a moment the boat rounded to on the back of a great wave and
was safe before the crest of the next roller ran hissing past me,
to break harmless round her bows.