He sees
the picture vividly--a majestic, gallant ship done to destruction;
a rich, ruined seaman wandering on earth a broken heart in a
dishonoured bosom. Not only a gallant ship, but a lifelong pride
and the fulness of a heart's desire swept recklessly into limbo.
Here, at last, had his love revealed itself.
"No, by God, she SHALL not perish!"
With a rapid movement he gains the fo'castle, and roars into it,
"All hands 'bout ship! Quick now, for your very lives!"
There is no mistaking his tone. It is not one of driving tyranny,
but of urgent agony, and it goes right home to every man.
Up they tumble in a ready crowd, many in their shirts alone. They
are all sleepy, but the business on hand will soon cure them of
this.
They stand by. The helm is put down, and quickly the Chrysolite
veers round in process of reaching the other tack. Will she do it?
No! She trembles almost in the teeth of the wind, misses stays,
and falls off again on to the old tack.
Anderson cannot understand it, old sailor as he is; puts the helm
down once more; once more she misses.
"Back the main-yard! Shiver the foreyard!"
Soon every stitch of canvas on the mainmast is swung about to face
the breeze, while that on the foremast is hauled in.
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