"I never allows I'd have to dig up the hatchet an' go on the war-path with any sech ragin', blisterin' proposition as this. It kind o' shakes the grit out of a man an' makes him feel small an' petty." As the _Higgins_ rushed madly before the blast, she buried her nose to the cat-heads in each huge comber. At each plunge she threw great masses of spray full fifty feet away from her dripping cutwater to port and starboard. The wind roared in a voice of thunder out of the foot of the foresail, but with the exception of the fore-topmast staysail the head sails had been made fast, and the long bare jibboom stabbed viciously into the smother as each overtaking sea rushed onward. Broncho, as he looked ahead with straining eyes, submitted to a strong feeling of awe as each gigantic sea went foaming by, leaving a white curtain of spume and froth in its train as it roared past at headlong speed. The majesty, the might, the stupendous power of the furious sea, its insolent treatment of the strong ship as it raged around her, its fury, its superb grandeur--all these appealed to the wild soul of the cowboy, and the charm, the fascination of the Great Waters was beginning to wrap itself around him. It is this great power of fascination and attraction which the sea possesses that gets to the root of men's hearts, and, once there, can never be exorcised. Suddenly, as Broncho watched the furious battle and meditated thereon, at a moment when the _Higgins_ balanced giddily on the top of a sixty-foot "grey-beard," he caught sight of a ship hove-to on the port tack under lower-topsails, lying right across the down-easter's bows. "Ship right ahead," he yelled. "We'll be clean over her as we're goin'." Before he could say more the stranger lay close aboard on the crest of the last roller, in plain view of all. She was an iron Clyde-built barque, with painted ports, and made a grand picture in the moonlight as she lifted gracefully to the top of the great hill of water. Helpless, unable to move out of the way, she lay at the mercy of the _Higgins_, and a collision in that sea would mean the loss of both ships with all hands. "We'll hit her plumb on the port quarter," cried the bosun to Jack. "Down with your helm, down with it, even if we have our decks swept bare," he roared. To bring the sea on either beam would mean the grave danger of broaching to, with the chance of a capsize and the certainty of having the decks swept fore and aft. Jack, cool and collected as ever, hove the wheel down a few spokes. "Right down!" yelled the bosun, who was hanging on to the mizzen backstays. "Right down, or you won't clear her." "If you leave it to me, I'll clear her all right," said the rover coolly, his eyes glued on the barque. "Have it your way, have it your way," returned the bosun, giving in to Jack's calm confidence. "Better order the hands aloft, or some one'll get taken overboard," went on Jack quietly; "and you might hand me the end of that boom-guy."