“Land on the lee bow!” came a cry from for’ard, that was carried on from mouth to mouth along the bridge to the poop. I saw Mr. Pike nod his head grimly and sarcastically. He had already seen it from the lee-poop, and what he had not seen he had guessed. A score of times I saw him test the weight of the gusts on his cheek and with all the brain of him study the _Elsinore’s_ behaviour. And I knew what was in his mind. Could she carry what she had? Could she carry more? Small wonder, in this tense passage of time, that I had forgotten the Samurai. Nor did I remember him until the chart-house door swung open and I caught him by the arm. He steadied and swayed beside me, while he watched that cruel picture of rock and snow and spouting surf. “A good full!” Mr. Pike snarled. “Or I’ll eat your heart out. God damn you for the farmer’s hound you are, Tom Spink! Ease her! Ease her! Ease her into the big ones, damn you! Don’t let her head fall off! Steady! Where in hell did you learn to steer? What cow-farm was you raised on?” Here he bounded for’ard past us with those incredible leaps of his. “It would be good to set the mizzen-topgallant,” I heard Captain West mutter in a weak, quavery voice. “Mr. Pathurst, will you please tell Mr. Pike to set the mizzen-topgallant?” And at that very instant Mr. Pike’s voice rang out from the break of the poop: “Mr. Mellaire!—the mizzen-topgallant!” Captain West’s head drooped until his chin rested on his breast, and so low did he mutter that I leaned to hear. “A very good officer,” he said. “An excellent officer. Mr. Pathurst, if you will kindly favour me, I should like to go in. I . . . I haven’t got on my boots.” The muscular feat was to open the heavy iron door and hold it open in the rolls and plunges. This I accomplished; but when I had helped Captain West across the high threshold he thanked me and waived further services. And I did not know even then he was dying. Never was a Blackwood ship driven as was the _Elsinore_ during the next half-hour. The full-jib was also set, and, as it departed in shreds, the fore-topmast staysail was being hoisted. For’ard of the ’midship-house it was made unlivable by the bursting seas. Mr. Mellaire, with half the crew, clung on somehow on top the ’midship-house, while the rest of the crew was with us in the comparative safety of the poop. Even Charles Davis, drenched and shivering, hung on beside me to the brass ring-handle of the chart-house door. Such sailing! It was a madness of speed and motion, for the _Elsinore_ drove over and through and under those huge graybeards that thundered shore-ward. There were times, when rolls and gusts worked against her at the same moment, when I could have sworn the ends of her lower-yardarms swept the sea.