Patsie Oddie, standing almost above him, caught the appeal of Orcutt’s eyes, and then saw him go under again. “If he comes up again ’twill be clear astern,” thought Oddie, “and the third time with all that gear on him he’ll never come up--and if ’tisn’t Providence, then what is it?” And this was a cold winter’s day, and Oddie himself soaked in sea-water. “And if he don’t come up,” thought Oddie, “if he don’t come up-- Lord God, must I do more than I’ve done already for a man I don’t like--a man that I know is no good--for a man in my way--a man, too, that would no more go overboard for me, even on the calmest day, than he’d cut his own throat?” And there was that queer smile that Orcutt had thrown at him as he stood up in the dory-- Oddie did not forget that. And then he saw Orcutt’s sou’wester on the water and the man himself beneath it. No more thought of that. Overboard went Oddie with all his own weight of clothes, oilskins, woolens, and big boots, while quick-witted men hove the bight of the main-sheet after him; and Oddie, grappling with the smothering and frightened Orcutt, smashed him full in the face. “Blast you, Artie Orcutt, there’s fun in beating you even here,” and hooked on to the collar of Orcutt’s oil jacket with one hand and grabbed the main-sheet just before the tide would have carried them out of reach. Safe on the deck of the _Delia_, Orcutt offered his hand to Oddie, who did not seem to notice, but said, “If you go below, Captain Orcutt, you’ll find a change of dry clothes in my room, and you c’n turn in there and rest yourself.” “But I want to thank you,” said Orcutt, overwhelmed. “Take your thanks to the divil,” said Oddie to that. “’Twas for no love of you I stood by. You c’n have the best on this vessel, but take your hand? Blast you, no! Go below, or I’ll throw you below.” And Orcutt went below without delay. It was late in the afternoon then. Even while they were hoisting that last dory over the rail Oddie had given his orders to drive out. At first all thought she would come clear, but in a little while they began to doubt, and doubt turned to misgiving, and misgiving to certainty. Sea and wind were too much for them now. In saving the _Eldorado’s_ crew they had waited too long--the tide was now against them also--and now it was no use. It was Oddie himself who said so at last, and went aloft before it was too dark to take a look at the surf they were falling into. He stayed aloft for about ten minutes, and when he came down all hands knew it was to be desperate work that night. “Put her about,” was his first order, and “Take a sounding, Martin,” his second. She came about in the settling blackness and started for shoal water. “You might’s well put her sidelights up,” he said next. “Nobody’ll get in our road to-night--nor we in anybody else’s--but we’ll go ship-shape. And what do you get?” he asked of Martin, when the lead came up.