Most of the surges came riding rail-high; sometimes an especially
violent wave washed the deck aft.
Following it, a chasm regularly opened under the vessel's counter, a
swirling pit in the ocean twenty feet deep.
There was good fortune as well as misfortune in the affair of the yawl.
When at last it dropped it avoided the period of the chasm.
In spite of the efforts of the captain and his helpers the sailors
succeeded in slashing away the davit tackle. A swelling roller came
up to meet the boat as the last strand gave way and swept it, with its
freight, out into the night. But as it went Mayo clutched a davit pulley
and swung in midair.
The dizzy depths of the sea opened under him as he dangled there and
gazed down.
An instant later all his attention was focused on Alma Marston, who
stood in the companionway clutching its sides and shrieking out her
fears. The lantern showed her to him plainly. Its radiance lighted him
also. He called to her several times, angrily at last.
"Where is that man, Bradish?" he demanded, fiercely.
It seemed as if his arms would be pulled out. He could not reach the
davit iron from where he hung; the schooner's rail was too far away,
though he kicked his feet in that direction.
"Don't be a fool! Stop that screaming," he told her. "Can Bradish!"
"He is sick--he--he--is frightened," she faltered.
"Come out here! Pull on that rope! Swing me in, I can't hold on here
much longer. Do you want to see me drown?"
She came along the rail, clinging to it.
"No, not that rope! The other one! Pull hard!"
She obeyed, fighting back her fear. The davit swung inward slowly, and
he managed to slide his legs up over the rail and gain the deck.
"Thank you!" he gasped. "You're quite a sailor!"
He had been wondering what his first words to her would be. Even while
he swung over the yawning depths of the sea the problem of his love was
so much more engrossing than his fear of death that his thoughts were
busy with her. He tried to speak to her with careless tone; it had been
in his mind that he would speak and bow and walk away. But he could not
move when she opened her eyes on him. She was as motionless as he--a
silent, staring pallid statue of astounded fright. The rope slipped
slowly from her relaxing fingers.
"Yes! It's just the man you think it is," he informed her, curtly. "But
there's nothing to be said!"