Fortunately, this was the last thing to be done; for the breaker, acting as a clog to the vessel’s way in the water, so affected her steering as to fling her perceptibly into the wind. And by causing the helm to work, this must soon rouse the lubber there stationed, if not already awake. But our dropping overboard the breaker greatly aided us in this respect: it diminished the ship’s headway; which owing to the light breeze had not been very great at any time during the night. Had it been so, all hope of escaping without first arresting the vessel’s progress, would have been little short of madness. As it was, the sole daring of the deed that night achieved, consisted in our lowering away while the ship yet clove the brine, though but moderately. All was now ready: the cranes swung in, the lashings adrift, and the boat fairly suspended; when, seizing the ends of the tackle ropes, we silently stepped into it, one at each end. The dead weight of the breaker astern now dragged the craft horizontally through the air, so that her tackle ropes strained hard. She quivered like a dolphin. Nevertheless, had we not feared her loud splash upon striking the wave, we might have quitted the ship almost as silently as the breath the body. But this was out of the question, and our plans were laid accordingly. “All ready, Jarl?” “Ready.” “A man overboard!” I shouted at the top of my compass; and like lightning the cords slid through our blistering hands, and with a tremendous shock the boat bounded on the sea’s back. One mad sheer and plunge, one terrible strain on the tackles as we sunk in the trough of the waves, tugged upon by the towing breaker, and our knives severed the tackle ropes—we hazarded not unhooking the blocks—our oars were out, and the good boat headed round, with prow to leeward. “Man overboard!” was now shouted from stem to stern. And directly we heard the confused tramping and shouting of the sailors, as they rushed from their dreams into the almost inscrutable darkness. “Man overboard! Man overboard!” My heart smote me as the human cry of horror came out of the black vaulted night. “Down helm!” was soon heard from the chief mate. “Back the main-yard! Quick to the boats! How’s this? One down already? Well done! Hold on, then, those other boats!” Meanwhile several seamen were shouting as they strained at the braces. “Cut! cut all! Lower away! lower away!” impatiently cried the sailors, who already had leaped into the boats. “Heave the ship to, and hold fast every thing,” cried the captain, apparently just springing to the deck. “One boat’s enough. Steward; show a light there from the mizzen-top. Boat ahoy!—Have you got that man?” No reply. The voice came out of a cloud; the ship dimly showing like a ghost. We had desisted from rowing, and hand over hand were now hauling in upon the rope attached to the breaker, which we soon lifted into the boat, instantly resuming our oars.