Mr. Gibney fell upon the main to'gallan'-s'l leads like a demon,
carried them through the leading block to the winch head, turned
over the winch and sheeted home the main-to'-gallan'-s'l. The
_Chesapeake_ gathered speed and Mr. Gibney went aft and stood beside
Mr. McGuffey, the while he looked aloft and thrilled to the whine of
the breeze through the rigging. "This is sailorizin'," he declared.
"It sure beats bumboatin'. Here, blast you, Bart. You're spillin'
the wind out o' that jib. First thing you know we'll have her in
irons an' then the fat _will_ be in the fire."

He took the wheel from McGuffey. When he was two miles off the
beach he brought her up into the wind and made the wheel fast, a
spoke to leeward. "Sheet home the fore-to'-gallan'-s'l," he
howled and dashed forward. "Leggo them buntlines an' clewlines,
my hearties, an' haul home that sheet."

The ship lay in the wind, shivering. Mr. Gibney was here, there,
everywhere. One minute he was dashing along the deck with a
leading line, the next he was laying out aloft. He ordered
himself to do a thing and then, with the pent-up energy of a
thousand devils, he did it. The years of degradation as
navigating officer of the _Maggie_ fell away from him, as he
sprang, agile and half-naked, into the shrouds; a great, hairy
demi-god or sea-goblin he lay out along the yards and sprang from
place to place with the old exultant thrill of youth and joy in
his work.

"Overhaul them buntlines an' clewlines," he bawled to an
imaginary crew. "Set that main-royal." With McGuffey's help the