Through these recollections constantly appeared the figures of his wife and child. He thought of them deeply, tenderly, calmly. Once, when they had been at sea with him, the _Viking_ had run into a cyclone off Mauritius; he recalled his going below in the midst of it, to reassure them. "How is it, Frank? Will it blow much harder?" "No, dear, the worst has passed" "Oh, Papa, aren’t you afraid?" "No, my son, there is nothing to be afraid of in the world" He had said those words—he laughed, now, to remember. God had punished him well for his audacity. He was surprised to find himself thinking of these things without pain. A change had taken place within him, a change born of the familiar exigency. In some inexplicable way, he was happy again. A task of seamanship lay before him; lives depended on his strength. He was a master mariner, in charge of his old ship—his ship, as truly as she had been that other morning, when, full of ambition and pride and courage, he had looked up at her untried sails. He felt her surge beneath the heavy cargo, rising, flanking the seas, flinging them off savagely, like a man striking out from the shoulder. He knew, he understood—that was the way he felt about it, too. A couple of old hulks, living beyond their time; but the spirit was in them still. Unseen, surrounded by darkness, Captain Bradley stood upright against the weather rail, an indomitable figure, facing the storm. The world could crush them—never the sea and the wind. The sea was their home, the wind was their brother. This was the fight that found them armed. *VIII* The storm increased; the air was thick with snow, cold with the breath of Arctic winter. In the middle of the night, the foresail and mainsail blew out of the bolt-ropes. They bent and set the heavy new sails. Soon the spanker went, and was replaced. Captain Bradley was driving the ship without mercy; for the wind was hauling inch by inch into the east, heading them off toward the dangerous lee shore. The _Viking_ stood the strain; her seaworthiness had never been put to a harder test, had never shown itself so handsomely. She had been built in a day when work and honour had gone hand in hand. The morning dawned on a wild scene. Great waves rushed at the ship, lifted her high in air, broke above her bows, and stopped her progress as if she had run against a wall. It was high time to heave her to. They lowered the mainsail, foresail and jib, and managed somehow to get them furled. The quarter-deck was comparatively dry; they had no difficulty in double-reefing the spanker. In his specifications to the sailmaker, Captain Bradley had insisted on a double row of reef-point for this sail.