"I tell you what, Marline," he said towards the afternoon, "I don't think there is now any possible chance of the wind backing again; so, as she's taking in such a lot over the bows, we must try and get some sail on her, to rise out of the trough of the sea." "I don't believe the mast will stand a rag, should we be able to hoist without its being blown to pieces," replied the first mate despondingly. He seemed to have lost all heart, unlike the captain and Jackson, who were both still brave and cheerful, keeping up the spirits of the men. These latter, I could see, were beginning to lose their courage too, going about their duties with a sort of dogged stubbornness unlike their old ready way. "Well, we'll try it at any rate. But, first, we must see to securing the masts. Get up a spare hawser and we'll rig a fresh stay round the head of the foremast, and then we'll set the foresail. That will lift her bows out of the water, if it only holds." So saying, Captain Miles yelled out for the watch below, and the men presently came out from the forecastle, Davis, the whilom second mate, along with them, the lot shambling unwillingly along the deck to the galley, where they clustered in a body. "Now, men," said the captain, "we must try and get some sail on the ship, or else we'll have all our timbers crushed in forwards by these seas; who'll volunteer to go aloft and help stay the foremast? It's risky work, and I don't like to order anyone to go." Not a soul spoke in answer for a minute or so, and then Davis stepped out a pace in front of the others. For a moment I was lost in admiration of what I conceived to be his pluck; but, the next instant, I perceived I had been too hasty in jumping at this conclusion. "What do you take us for, Cap'en Miles?" Davis sang out sullenly. "Do you think that men are dogs to waste their lives for nothing? Why don't you go aloft yourself, if you are so anxious about the job?" Captain Miles turned quite white, as he always did when his temper was up. He was then ready to dare anything, like most men of a deep nature. "So I will, you mutinous scoundrel!" he cried; and he was just making his way down the poop-ladder to go forwards, when Jackson, almost jumping over his head, outstripped him, being down in the waist and up to the loiterers in a jiffey. "Come on, you cowards!" the brave fellow exclaimed, clambering up into the fore-rigging and making for the top. "Who's man enough to follow me?" There was no lack of volunteers now. First one, and then another, scrambled likewise into the shrouds and climbed up after Jackson, only Davis being left below in his glory out of the whole watch. Even he too was following; but, on Jackson shouting out something about his "not wanting any lubbers to help him," Davis sneaked back into the forecastle.