soon apparent, then, that Mr. Seal had little to expect from the apathy of
the crew, for never did men work with better will to get a ship loosened
from the bottom.

All this feeling manifested itself in a silent and intelligent activity
rather than in noise or bustle, for every man on board exercised his best
faculties, as well as his best good will and strength; the clock-work
ticks of the palls of the windlass resembling those of a watch that had
got the start of time, while the chain came in with surges of half a
fathom at each heave.

"Lay hold of this rope, men," cried Mr. Leach, placing the end of the
main-topsail halyards in the hands of half-a-dozen athletic steerage
passengers, who had all the inclination in the world to be doing, though
uncertain where to lay their hands; "lay hold, and run away with it."

The second mate performed the same feat forward, and as the sheets had
never been started, the broad folds of the Montauk's canvas began to open,
even while the men were heaving at the anchor. These exertions quickened
the blood in the veins of those who were not employed, until even the
quarter-deck passengers began to experience the excitement of a chase, in
addition to the feelings of compassion. Captain Truck, was silent, but
very active in preparations. Springing to the wheel, he made its spokes
fly until he had forced the helm hard up, when he unceremoniously gave it
to John Effingham to keep there. His next leap was to the foot of the
mizen-mast, where, after a few energetic efforts alone, he looked over his
shoulder and beckoned for aid.

"Sir George Templemore, mizen-topsail-halyards; mizen-topsail-halyards,
Sir George Templemore," muttered the eager master, scarce knowing what he