It was then that the giant wave leaped madly over the poop, as though the sea were resolved to swallow its prey without further warning. The second officer, outside on the bridge, had to cling to a stanchion for his life. Courtenay and Boyle saw two boats wrenched from their davits and carried overboard, while a bulkhead forward was smashed into matchwood. The half-caste quarter-master at the wheel muttered “Madonna!” and tried to remember a prayer. “I propose,” continued Courtenay, raising his voice so that the other might hear, “to give the ship steering-way by hoisting the foresail. Will you see to it? Then I intend to warn the passengers, and make such preparations as are possible before we strike.” “Huh,” agreed Mr. Boyle. He took the short cut over the rails. In a few seconds the captain heard a flow of ornate Spanish, and he knew that Mr. Boyle was getting the scared Chileans to work. Then Courtenay went to his own cabin, in which, in the haste of his exit, he had imprisoned Joey. The dog received him with delight, for Joey knew a real gale from a sham one, as well as any man before the mast. Courtenay patted his head, opened a drawer in the writing-table, and drew forth two photographs, which he kissed. He replaced them, locked the drawer, and went out, letting the dog come with him. That was his farewell to his mother and sister; it was the first and last sign of sentiment he exhibited during that night of great endurance. When he returned from the saloon, he found the chief officer examining the chart. “Do you think we have any chance of making Concepcion Strait?” he asked, pointing to the doubtfully marked channel which separates Hanover and Duke of York Islands. “If we set the mains’le we might bear up a bit.” “Try it.” “Huh,” said Mr. Boyle, and he was off again into the spindrift. Be it understood that the sails carried by a big vessel like the _Kansas_ are of little practical value save under certain conditions of wind and sea, when they are rigged to steady her, and thus give help to helm and propeller. Still, they might serve now to carry the ship a point or two towards the north, and this was the sole avenue of escape which remained. Here, again, was one of those trivial circumstances which are so potent in the shaping of events. Had either of the sails blown out, or had the mainsail been set at the same time as the foresail, the course followed during the next few hours must have been deviated from to some extent, and the alteration of a cable’s length in direction could not fail to exercise the most momentous result on the fortunes of the _Kansas_. But ships are singularly akin to men in respect to the apparent vagaries of fate. A moment’s hesitation, a mere pace to right or left, may mean all the difference between success and failure, safety and danger.