They went up the rigging with faltering and
desperate efforts. Their heads swam as they shifted their hold, stepped
blindly on the yards like men in the dark; or trusted themselves to the
first rope at hand with the negligence of exhausted strength. The narrow
escapes from falls did not disturb the languid beat of their hearts; the
roar of the seas seething far below them sounded continuous and faint
like an indistinct noise from another world: the wind filled their eyes
with tears, and with heavy gusts tried to push them off from where they
swayed in insecure positions. With streaming faces and blowing hair
they flew up and down between sky and water, bestriding the ends of
yard-arms, crouching on foot-ropes, embracing lifts to have their hands
free, or standing up against chain ties. Their thoughts floated vaguely
between the desire of rest and the desire of life, while their stiffened
fingers cast off head-earrings, fumbled for knives, or held with
tenacious grip against the violent shocks of beating canvas. They glared
savagely at one another, made frantic signs with one hand while they
held their life in the other, looked down on the narrow strip of flooded
deck, shouted along to leeward: "Light-to!".
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