Then the operation of embarking began.

The sea at the time was running pretty high, with little white flecks
of foam tipping the crests of the deep blue waves. The eastern sky
was dark and threatening. The black ridges of the Bell Rock were
visible only at times in the midst of the sea of foam that surrounded
them. Anyone ignorant of their nature would have deemed a landing
absolutely impossible.

The _Pharos_, as we have said, was rolling violently from side to
side, insomuch that those who were in the boats had the greatest
difficulty in preventing them from being stove in; and getting into
these boats had much the appearance of an exceedingly difficult and
dangerous feat, which active and reckless men might undertake for a
wager.

But custom reconciles one to almost anything. Most of the men had had
sufficient experience by that time to embark with comparative ease.
Nevertheless, there were a few whose physical conformation was such
that they could do nothing neatly.

Poor Forsyth was one of these. Each man had to stand on the edge of
the lightship, outside the bulwarks, holding on to a rope, ready to
let go and drop into the boat when it rose up and met the vessel's
roll. In order to facilitate the operation a boat went to either side
of the ship, so that two men were always in the act of watching for
an opportunity to spring. The active men usually got in at the first
or second attempt, but others missed frequently, and were of course
"chaffed" by their more fortunate comrades.