Poor Bohun was no sailor. He hardly knew the difference between the cable and the cathead. He looked the picture of distress, almost of despair. But I, being under no obligations to the brutal captain of the brig, was at liberty to obey the impulse of my feelings. I stepped over the quarter rail, grasped the topmast stay of the sloop, swung myself on the jibboom, and in the space of a few seconds after the captain had concluded his maledictions I was standing on the sloop's forecastle, alongside of Bohun. Chapter XXV. TREACHERY AND INGRATITUDE As soon as I reached the deck of the sloop, Bohun eagerly grasped me by the hand. "My good fellow," said he, "tell me what to do, and I will go about it at once; only tell me what to do first." I cast my eye around, and comprehended in a moment the exact condition of the little vessel. I felt that a great responsibility had suddenly devolved upon me, and I determined to be equal to the task. The sloop, pitching and rolling, and jammed between two much larger vessels, was awkwardly situated, and riding, I supposed, at a single anchor. About half the cable only was payed out; the remainder was coiled on the forecastle, and the end was not secured. "In the first place," said I, recollecting the scene near Charleston bar, "we will clinch the end of the cable around the mast, and then we can veer out as much as we like, without risk of its running away." This was soon done, and by veering cable, the sloop dropped astern, until clear of all other vessels. I then found, to my satisfaction, that neither of the cables had parted. It subsequently appeared that the small bower anchor had merely been dropped under foot. By giving a good scope to both cables, the sloop was as likely to ride out the gale, so far as depended on ground tackling, as any vessel in port. The sails, which had been loosed by the force of the wind, were next secured. The foresail was furled in such manner that it could be cast loose and the head of it hoisted at a minute's notice. I greatly feared that some light vessel might be forced from her moorings, and drift athwart our bows, and thus bear the sloop away from her anchors. I therefore got an axe, and placed it by the windlass, with the design of cutting both cables when such an act might be considered necessary for our safety, hoist the head of the foresail, and run out to sea. In the mean time, the decks were in a deplorable condition, lumbered up with barrels, boxes, and ballast. The supercargo commenced on one side, and myself on the other, to throw the ballast into the hold. The miscellaneous articles were then tumbled down in an unceremonious manner, and the hatchways properly secured. Our attention was now turned to the mast, which had no support on either side, and was in an awkward and uneasy position. Bohun looked at it as it swayed from starboard to port and from port to starboard, and then looked inquiringly at me.