The wet, glistening decks, the mass of curved cordage bending to the blast, the line of toiling men, the clear-cut figure of the old man swaying at the break of the poop, the raging sea which rolled in great snow-capped mountains of ink, the scudding ragged clouds, and the rounded bosoms of the straining topsails--all these its silver rays showed forth in rugged, strongly touched relief. The wheel was now too much for the strength of little Angelino, and though he worked furiously, heaving it up and down with all his might, he was always too late in meeting her; the compass card grew more and more unsteady in its movements, and the ship began to swing a couple of points on each side of her course. The result was that the tired men at the braces spent most of their time under water. "Somebody'll be overboard directly, if Angelino goes on letting her run off like that," grunted Jack to the bosun, as they hung on, dipped to their waists in the surging flood, and waited for the maindeck to clear itself. "This old _Higgins_ is a bit of a wet ship, I'm thinkin'," reflected the bosun. "She's as bad as any iron ship that ever I was on. Call 'em diving-bells an' half-tide rocks--these here wooden Yankees are just as bad." Presently an extra big monster came along, and broke aboard high over the men's heads, sweeping across the maindeck with a deafening roar, and taking every man on the braces away in its furious embrace. This was too much for the old man. For a few moments his whole crew disappeared from sight in the flood; then, as the water began to pour off over each rail in turn, he caught sight of an odd leg or arm poking out of the torrent for a second, like derelict boughs tossed about in a swollen mountain stream. With a furious imprecation he turned and pounced upon Angelino. "Oh, it's yew again, is it? What in hell d'yew think y're doin', spinnin' tops er what? Snakes! d'ye want to have her broach to? Hard up, yew scattermouch, hard up! Thet's enuff! Neow then, meet her as she goes off. Gol darn my skin, yew ain't got more strength than er cockroach! Heave her down, man, heave her down----Gaul bust my boots, down, I said--don't yew know down from up yet? Jeerusalem, y're enuff to make the Archangel Gabriel bawl blue hell." Then, giving the little dago a cuff on the ear, he rushed to the break of the poop, bellowing, "Lee-wheel, hyeh, send a lee-wheel along, Mister Davis, an' send a man to relieve thet dago; he ain't more use than a bad egg." By the time the yards were squared and the starboard watch allowed to go forward, all but an hour of their watch below had passed. "Well, Broncho," said Jack with a queer note of gaiety in his voice, as they stripped off their oilskins, "this is something like, eh? This is the weather to wash the mud out of a man and keep his blood from getting sluggish and clogged." And he sang softly, "See how she buries that lee cat-head; Hold on, good Yankee pine!"