"It bogs down as plumb dull an' no account before this impulsive whirlwind, which I states emphatic is a whole team an' jest raises Almighty discord from the heavenly vaults to the bottomless pit as easy as winnin' a Jack-pot with four aces." "Douse that glim," growled a voice, and soon the foc's'le resounded with the deep, heavy breathing of tired men asleep in a foul atmosphere. CHAPTER XII "A CALL FOR NERVE" At midnight it was Jack's wheel and Broncho's look-out. "How's she steering?" asked Jack, as he took the wheel from Hank. "Oh, not so dusty. They've got the relievin' tackles rigged, an' she only wants watching. Ain't yew got no lee-wheel with yew, though?" "No, I guess I can manage." "Waal, I reckon yew can tiew, though it'll come heavy on yew, durned heavy." It was now blowing a strong, steady gale, with squalls at intervals--a good fair sample of "running easting down" weather. The sky was almost clear, and the great Southern Cross gleamed high up in the heavens. The _Higgins_ required careful watching to meet her in time as she was hurled from mountain to valley. Down, down, down into the depths, down she dropped until the foresail began to shake; then up, up, up she went again, staggering desperately to reach the top as, like a beast of prey, a great hill of whirling liquid with a seething crest of foam swooped upon her. High up above the helmsman it reared its raging top, a nerve-shaking, a terror-giving sight as it threatened to overwhelm the struggling ship with its huge bulk and roll her over and over, broken, waterlogged, sinking--only one more ship to be posted as missing, gone to an unknown grave in the vast depths of the mighty Southern Ocean. But up swung the stern of the gallant clipper as, held steady by Jack's cool hand, she ran dead before it, and the great roller rushed by harmless and fell with a deafening clatter upon the flooded maindeck. In such a sea everything depends upon the helmsman, and the bosun kept handy to the wheel, ready to give his powerful aid should the emergency arise. But the rolling-stone needed no help--he was thoroughly in his element. A magnificent helmsman, a few spokes either way and he kept the _Higgins_ steady on her course. The thought that the safety of the vessel and the lives of his shipmates depended upon his skill and nerve was pure bliss to him. He rejoiced in it, and mocked at the vainly pursuing seas. The helm was heavy, however, for one man, and all his strength was needed; yet he felt it not. His muscles rebounded to the call upon them, and he threw the wheel up a turn with easy grace, where another man would have been straining with cracking muscles. With legs firmly planted on the grating, he stood to windward, swaying easily with the motion of the vessel, whilst with keen eyes he steered by a star at the yardarm, hardly taking a glance at that deceiver, the compass.