Ahead of the ship he perceived a great darkness lying upon a multitude of white flashes; on the starboard beam a few amazing stars drooped, dim and fitful, above an immense waste of broken seas, as if seen through a mad drift of smoke. On the bridge a knot of men, indistinct and toiling, were making great efforts in the light of the wheelhouse windows that shone mistily on their heads and backs. Suddenly darkness closed upon one pane, then on another. The voices of the lost group reached him after the manner of men's voices in a gale, in shreds and fragments of forlorn shouting snatched past the ear. All at once Jukes appeared at his side, yelling, with his head down. “Watch--put in--wheelhouse shutters--glass--afraid--blow in.” Jukes heard his commander upbraiding. “This--come--anything--warning--call me.” He tried to explain, with the uproar pressing on his lips. “Light air--remained--bridge--sudden--north-east--could turn--thought--you--sure--hear.” They had gained the shelter of the weather-cloth, and could converse with raised voices, as people quarrel. “I got the hands along to cover up all the ventilators. Good job I had remained on deck. I didn't think you would be asleep, and so . . . What did you say, sir? What?” “Nothing,” cried Captain MacWhirr. “I said--all right.” “By all the powers! We've got it this time,” observed Jukes in a howl. “You haven't altered her course?” inquired Captain MacWhirr, straining his voice. “No, sir. Certainly not. Wind came out right ahead. And here comes the head sea.” A plunge of the ship ended in a shock as if she had landed her forefoot upon something solid. After a moment of stillness a lofty flight of sprays drove hard with the wind upon their faces. “Keep her at it as long as we can,” shouted Captain MacWhirr. Before Jukes had squeezed the salt water out of his eyes all the stars had disappeared. III Jukes was as ready a man as any half-dozen young mates that may be caught by casting a net upon the waters; and though he had been somewhat taken aback by the startling viciousness of the first squall, he had pulled himself together on the instant, had called out the hands and had rushed them along to secure such openings about the deck as had not been already battened down earlier in the evening. Shouting in his fresh, stentorian voice, “Jump, boys, and bear a hand!” he led in the work, telling himself the while that he had “just expected this.” But at the same time he was growing aware that this was rather more than he had expected. From the first stir of the air felt on his cheek the gale seemed to take upon itself the accumulated impetus of an avalanche. Heavy sprays enveloped the Nan-Shan from stem to stern, and instantly in the midst of her regular rolling she began to jerk and plunge as though she had gone mad with fright.