At last a sailor named Hitch flung down his oar, and swore that he would row no more, without it was to row to the shore. An approving growl went up amongst the men, and things began to take a very ugly look. Jack was in a towering rage; he swore at the men, as only he could swear; but every moment showed that they could not be kept at their oars a great while longer. Meantime the man Hitch sat sullenly, answering Jack’s words with others not a bit better. “Tom,” roared Jack, all of a sudden; “Tom, come here and take this tiller, while I settle that mutinous son of a sea cook.” He made a step forward as he spoke, but in a moment the man’s fingers were around the boat’s plug. “You’ll settle me, will you?” cried he. “— — your eyes! Come a step furder, and I’ll out with this plug, and send us all to the bottom, with the boat under us!” Jack stopped where he was, for he saw that the fellow would do as he said; had he done so, the boat would have filled and gone down in a minute. When Jack stopped, a laugh went up from all around, for it was plain to see that the men were in sympathy with Hitch. This made the fellow feel inclined to go a step further, for he felt bold when he saw Jack pause. “If you don’t put the boat’s head to the shore,” said he, “I’ll pull out the plug, anyhow!” “Tom,” cried Jack, passionately, “give me the tiller; if they will drown for a pack of lubberly fools, let them drown and be ——d!” “For heaven’s sake, Jack!” cried Tom; “think what you’re about. You’ll drown us all. Let me hold the tiller!” But Jack was blind and deaf with his passion, and would listen to nothing. Tom struggled with him as long as he was able; holding on to the tiller with might and main, fighting him off, and pleading with him all the while. I suppose that they must have fought for two or three minutes, and the boat was nearly swamped more than once with their struggles. At last Jack wrenched Tom’s hands away and seized hold of the tiller, for a great part of Tom’s strength had gone from him, because of long and hard exposure, which seemed to have told more upon him than on Jack. The men appeared to be pretty well frightened by this time, and Hitch had taken his oar again. In a moment Jack had put the boat’s head toward the shore. “Pull lively now, my hearties,” said he, grimly, “for you’ll have a tough pull of it before you get to that beach over yonder.” Just before they came to the outer line of breakers, Jack put the cutter’s head about so as to let her beach stern foremost.