He shook the frozen sleet from the rim of his sou’wester and turned to inform one of the crew, in polite language of the sea, that "he’d better get a move on an’ not stand there a-hanging on to the slack." "There’s some tea a-goin’, Tom," announced Captain Prout. "Nip below an’ get a mug to warm you up a bit." The mate fell in with the suggestion with alacrity. The skipper, having seen the hands complete their task of "gettin’ the tops’ls off her," went aft to where the half-frozen helmsman was almost mechanically toying with the wheel. Through sheer force of habit Captain Prout peered into the feebly illuminated compass-bowl. Even as he did so, there was a tremendous crash. The _Myrtle_ trembled from truck to kelson, while from aloft a jumble of splintered spars, cordage, and canvas fell upon the deck like a miniature avalanche. Captain Prout’s first impressions were those of pained surprise. For the moment he was firmly convinced that the schooner had piled herself upon an uncharted rock, but the absence of any signs of the vessel pounding against a hard bottom reassured him on that point. Although in ignorance of what had occurred, the tough old skipper rose to the occasion. "Steady on your helm!" he shouted to the man at the wheel. "Don’t let her fall off her course." The helmsman obeyed. It was no easy matter, since he was enveloped in a fold of the mainsail and the _Myrtle_ was towing the main-topmast and a portion of the cross-trees alongside. Alarmed by the commotion, the "watch below"--two men and a boy--rushed on deck, while the mate, issuing from the after-cabin with a tin pannikin of tea still grasped in his hand, raised his voice in a strongly worded enquiry to know what had happened to the old hooker. "Get a light, Tom, an’ we’ll have a squint at the damage," shouted the Old Man. "One of you sound the well and see if she’s making any. Dick, you just see if them sidelights are burning properly." The mate disappeared, to return with a hurricane lamp. "Jerusalem!" he exclaimed. "Ain’t it a lash up?" The mainmast had been broken off five feet below the cross-trees, with the result that the main and throat halliard blocks had gone with the broken spars, while the mainsail, with the gaff and boom, had fallen across the deck. The shroud halliards still held, and the wire shrouds themselves trailed athwart both bulwarks. Apparently the foremast was intact, since it was the main topmast stay that had parted under the strain. This much Captain Prout saw, noted, and understood, but what puzzled him was a telescoped object, looking very much like an exaggerated top-hat, that lay upon the deck between the mainmast fife-rail and the coaming of the main hatch. "Guess it’s a meteorite," hazarded the mate. "Meteorite, my foot!" ejaculated Captain Prout, scornfully. "If’t had been, ’twould ha’ gone slap bang through the old hooker, an’ we’d have been in the ditch."