of it, Noni. We were rocked by a sea of fire."

Haggart stands pale-faced, his eyes closed. Suddenly he shouts
commandingly:

"Boatswain!"

"Yes," Khorre jumps up.

"Whistle for everybody to go up on deck."

"Yes."

The boatswain's shrill whistle pierces sharply into the open body of
the storm. Everything comes to life, and it looks as though they
were upon the deck of a ship. The waves are crying with human
voices. In semi-oblivion, Haggart is commanding passionately and
angrily:

"To the shrouds!--The studding sails! Be ready, forepart! Aim at
the ropes; I don't want to sink them all at once. Starboard the
helm, sail by the wind. Be ready now. Ah, fire! Ah, you are
already burning! Board it now! Get the hooks ready."

And Khorre tosses about violently, performing the mad instructions.

"Yes, yes."

"Be braver, boys. Don't be afraid of tears! Eh, who is crying
there? Don't dare cry when you are dying. I'll dry your mean eyes