Mayo turned away and went back to his work. They were rigging
extra stays for the mizzenmast. And he noted that the girl near the
coach-house door was staring at him with a great deal of interest. But
in that gloom he was only a moving figure among toiling men.
An hour later the mate ordered the oil-bags to be tied to the catheads.
The bags were huge gunny sacks stuffed with cotton waste which was
saturated with oil.
In spite of the fact that her spanker, double-reefed, was set in order
to hold her up to the wind, weather-vane fashion, the schooner seemed
determined to keep her broadside to the tumbling seas. The oil slick
helped only a little; every few moments a wave with spoondrift flying
from it would smash across the deck, volleying tons of water between
rails, with a sound like thunder. At these times the swirling torrent in
the waist would reach to a man's knees.
Mayo did not take his watch below. The excitement of his recent
experience had driven away all desire for sleep, and the sheathing in
the fo'c'sle was squawking with such infernal din that only a deaf man
could have remained there in comfort.
However, he was not uneasy in regard to the safety of the schooner. In
a winter gale, with ice caking on her, he would have viewed their
situation in different light. But he had frequently seen the seas
breaking over the wallowing coal-luggers when he had passed them at
anchor on the coast.
He made a trip of his own along the main-deck, scrambling upon the spars
to avoid the occasional deluge which swept her amidship. The battened
hatches were apparently withstanding the onslaughts of the waves. He
could feel less weight in the wind. It was apparent that the crisis of
the blow had passed. The waves were not so savage; their crests were not
breaking. But just then the second mate rushed past, and Mayo overheard
the report he gave the captain, who was pacing the lee alley: "The mizzenmast is getting more play, sir. I'm afraid it's raising the
devil with the step and ke'lson."
"Rig extra stays and try her again for water," ordered the master.
Mayo, returning to the mizzen, found the entire crew grouped there.
The mast was writhing and groaning in its deck collar, twisting its
coat--the canvas covering at its foot where it entered the deck.
The dusky faces were exhibiting much concern. They had flocked where the
ship was dealing herself a wound; the sailor sixth sense of impending
trouble had drawn them there.