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seaman, lashed by the middle, tapped the deck with his open hand with unceasing quick flaps. In the gathering greyness of twilight a bulky form was seen rising aft, and began marching on all fours with the movements of some big cautious beast. It was Mr. Baker passing along the line of men. He grunted encouragingly over every one, felt their fastenings. Some, with half-open eyes, puffed like men oppressed by heat; others mechanically and in dreamy voices answered him, “Aye! aye! sir!” He went from one to another grunting, “Ough!... See her through it yet;” and unexpectedly, with loud angry outbursts, blew up Knowles for cutting off a long piece from the fall of the relieving tackle. “Ough! —  —  — Ashamed of yourself —  —  — Relieving tackle —  —  — Don’t you know better! —  —  — Ough! —  —  — Able seaman! Ough!” The lame man was crushed. He muttered, “Get som’think for a lashing for myself, sir.” — ”Ough! Lashing —  —  — yourself. Are you a tinker or a sailor —  —  — What? Ough! —  —  — May want that tackle directly —  —  — Ough! —  —  — More use to the ship than your lame carcass. Ough! —  —  — Keep it! —  —  — Keep it, now you’ve done it.”
    He crawled away slowly, muttering to himself about some men being “worse than children.” It had been a comforting row. Low exclamations were heard: “Hallo... Hallo.”... Those who had been painfully dozing asked with convulsive starts, “What’s up?... What is it?” The answers came with unexpected cheerfulness: “The mate is going bald-headed for lame Jack about something or other.” “No!”.... “What ‘as he done?” Some one even chuckled. It was like a whiff of hope, like a reminder of safe days. Donkin, who had been stupefied with fear, revived suddenly and began to shout: — ”‘Ear ‘im; that’s the way they tawlk to us. Vy donch ‘ee ‘it ‘im — one ov yer? ‘It ‘im. ‘It ‘im! Comin’ the mate over us. We are as good men as ‘ee! We’re all goin’ to ‘ell now. We ‘ave been starved in this rotten ship, an’ now we’re goin’ to be drowned for them black ‘earted bullies! ‘It ‘im!” He shrieked in the deepening gloom, he blubbered and sobbed, screaming: — ”‘It ‘im! ‘It ‘im!” The rage and fear of his disregarded right to live tried the steadfastness of hearts more than the menacing shadows of the night that advanced through the unceasing clamour of the gale. From aft Mr. Baker was heard: — ”Is one of you men going to stop him — must I come along?” “Shut up!”... “Keep quiet!” cried various voices, exasperated, trembling with cold. — ”You’ll get one across the mug from me directly,” said an invisible seaman, in a weary tone, “I won’t let the mate have the trouble.” He ceased and lay still with the silence of despair. On the black sky the stars, coming out, gleamed over an inky sea that, speckled with foam, flashed back at them the evanescent and pale light of a dazzling whiteness born from the black turmoil of the waves. Remote in the eternal calm they glittered hard and cold above the uproar of the earth; they surrounded the vanquished and tormented ship on all sides: more pitiless than the eyes of a triumphant mob, and as unapproachable as the hearts of men.
    The icy south wind howled exultingly under the sombre splendour of the sky. The cold shook the men with a resistless violence as though it had tried to shake them to pieces. Short moans were swept unheard off the stiff lips. Some complained in mutters of “not feeling themselves below the waist;” while those who had closed their eyes, imagined they had a block of ice on their chests. Others, alarmed at not feeling any pain in their fingers, beat the deck feebly with their hands — obstinate and exhausted. Wamibo stared vacant and dreamy. The Scandinavians kept on a meaningless mutter through chattering teeth. The spare Scotchmen, with determined efforts, kept their lower jaws still. The West-country men lay big and stolid in an invulnerable surliness. A man yawned and swore in turns. Another breathed with a rattle in his throat. Two elderly hard-weather shellbacks, fast side by side, whispered dismally to one another about the landlady of a boarding-house in Sunderland, whom they both knew. They extolled her motherliness and her liberality; they tried to talk about the joint of beef and the big fire