The men, not quite understanding what was happening, but seeing that a
"row" was taking place, came to the forecastle and advanced by degrees
along the main-deck. Among them I noticed the cook, muttering to one
or the other who stood near.
Mr. Duckling, awakened by the violent clattering over his head, came
running up the companion-way with a bewildered, sleepy look in his
face. The captain grasped him by the arm, and pointing to me, cried
out with an oath that "that villain was breeding a mutiny on board, and
he believed wanted to murder him and Duckling."
I at once answered, "Nothing of the kind! There is a man miserably
perishing on board that sinking wreck, Mr. Duckling, and he ought to be
saved. My lads!" I cried, addressing the men on the main-deck, "is
there a sailor among you all who would have the heart to leave that man
yonder without an effort to rescue him?"
"No, sir!" shouted one of them. "We'll save the man; and if the
skipper refuses, we'll make him!"
"Luff!" I called to the man at the wheel.
"Luff at your peril!" screamed the skipper.
"Aft here, some hands," I cried, "and lay the mainyard aback. Let go
the port main-braces!"
The captain came running toward me.
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