I scooched down under the lee of a p'int o' rock, and
made the rope fast round my waist, and the other end round the rock,
and then I waited for the spar to come along. 'Twas hard to make out
anythin', for the water was all a white, bilin' churn, and the spray
flyin' fit to blind you; but bimeby I co't sight of her comin'
swashin' along, now up on top of a big roarer, and then scootin' down
into the holler, and then up agin. I crep' out on the rocks, grippin'
'em for all I was wuth, with the boat-hook under my arm. The wind
screeched and clawed at me like a wildcat in a caniption fit, but
I hadn't been through those cyclones for nothin'. I lay down flat
and wriggled myself out to the edge, and thar I waited."
"And the waves were breaking over you all the time?" cried the child,
with eager inquiry.
"Wal, they was that, Honeysuckle!" said the Captain. "Bless ye, I
sh'd ha' been washed off like a log if 't hadn't ben for the rope.
But that held; 'twas a good one, and tied with a bowline, and it held.
Wal, I lay thar, and all to wunst I see her comin' by like a flash,
close to me. '_Now_!' says I, 'ef ther's any stuff in you, J. Judkins,
let's see it!' says I. And I chucks myself over the side o' the rock
and grabs her with the boat-hook, and hauls her in.
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