“You--you--” Hunch was for once too angry to swear. “Get below there!” he said finally, after he had steadied the schooner on her course. “Get below, quick!” Bruce without looking around fumbled with the companion slide, and ducking down between two waves, pulled it shut after him. After he had disappeared, and the schooner was running more easily on the long northwest tack that was to take her to the Liddington harbor, Hunch slowly got his bearings, and for a long time he stood pouring out a flood of profanity. This outburst came too late for Bruce's ears, but not too late to act as a safety-valve to Hunch's temper. Then he took a drink. He stood at the wheel all day and all night. At noon and at dusk he sent Billy below to get up a rough meal, which he ate with one hand, washing it down with the whiskey. At about nine o'clock, he called Billy back, and told him to turn in. And when the dawn broke, and the bleak sand hills of Michigan stretched out on the horizon, he was still at the wheel, but his eyes were dimmer and his knees were weaker. Hunch was drunk. He was quiet for the time, and he handled the schooner as she had never been handled before, but the fact remained. Bruce had not appeared at all. He was curled up in his bunk, waiting for the end, when the madman at the wheel should reach the sleepy stage. Once or twice in the night, when the schooner was careering through some especially hard blow, Bruce cried a little, like a girl, at the thought of the wedding that might not be. He did not know that at this time it was the thought of two blue eyes smiling at him, and of two lips pressed to his cheek, that raised Hunch above the grasp of the whiskey. The morning had gone before they were within reach of the Liddington harbor. They passed the breakwaters three times at noon and after, each time a mile nearer than before. The wind had swung around during the night closer to the south. Hunch was beating in from the northeast, evidently planning to get close enough to run in during a lull. The box of a lighthouse on the south breakwater grew larger. After a time, Billy, who was forward, could see three white figures on the other breakwater, waving their arms. He knew that they were members of the life-saving crew, warning them not to make the attempt. Hunch took a look about the boat and up through the rigging. The schooner was badly wrenched and strained, but was apparently good for another effort. He looked over the long reach of breakers, sweeping up on a slant from the south. He took a drink and called to Billy. “Come back here! Tell _him_ to come up on deck.” His manner was heavy and surly. Bruce came up with a white face and rings under his eyes. “Sit down there,” growled Hunch, pointing to the low roof of the cabin. “You too,” to Billy.