|On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmfbx
 

hope that it was closed.
For what favorable accident could be expected?
"Did you hear everything?" were my first words as soon as we took
up our position side by side, leaning over my bed place.
He had. And the proof of it was his earnest whisper, "The man told you
he hardly dared to give the order."
I understood the reference to be to that saving foresail.
"Yes. He was afraid of it being lost in the setting."
"I assure you he never gave the order. He may think he did,
but he never gave it. He stood there with me on the break of the poop
after the main topsail blew away, and whimpered about our last hope--
positively whimpered about it and nothing else--and the night coming on!
To hear one's skipper go on like that in such weather was enough
to drive any fellow out of his mind. It worked me up into a sort
of desperation. I just took it into my own hands and went
away from him, boiling, and--But what's the use telling you?
YOU know! . . . Do you think that if I had not been pretty fierce
with them I should have got the men to do anything? Not It!
The bo's'n perhaps? Perhaps! It wasn't a heavy sea--it was a sea
gone mad! I suppose the end of the world will be something like tyilai：
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On the Makaloa Mat LondonJack Publishedabmeod