Haul! haul anyhow! Lay on your backs and haul!" he
screeched, half drowned down there. We did not believe we could move the
main yard, but the strongest and the less discouraged tried to execute
the order. Others assisted half-heartedly. Singleton's eyes blazed
suddenly as he took a fresh grip of the spokes. Captain Allistoun fought
his way up to windward.--"Haul, men! Try to move it! Haul, and help the
ship." His hard face worked suffused and furious. "Is she going off,
Singleton?" he cried.--"Not a move yet, sir," croaked the old seaman in
a horribly hoarse voice.--"Watch the helm, Singleton," spluttered the
master. "Haul, men! Have you no more strength than rats? Haul, and earn
your salt." Mr. Creigh-ton, on his back, with a swollen leg and a
face as white as a piece of paper, blinked his eyes; his bluish lips
twitched. In the wild scramble men grabbed at him, crawled over his
hurt leg, knelt on his chest. He kept perfectly still, setting his teeth
without a moan, without a sigh. The master's ardour, the cries of that
silent man inspired us. We hauled and hung in bunches on the rope. We
heard him say with violence to Donkin, who sprawled abjectly on his
stomach,--"I will brain you with this belaying pin if you don't catch
hold of the brace," and that victim of men's injustice, cowardly and
cheeky, whimpered:--"Are you goin' to murder us now?" while with sudden
desperation he gripped the rope.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144