The deck, washed now almost continuously by hurtling
tons of storm-mad water, as one mountainous wave followed
another the length of the ship, had become entirely impossible.
With difficulty the men were attempting to get below between
waves. All semblance of discipline had vanished. For the most
part they were a pack of howling, cursing, terror-ridden
beasts, fighting at the hatches with those who would have held
them closed against the danger of each new assault of the sea.
Ward and Skipper Simms had been among the first to seek
the precarious safety below deck. Theriere alone of the officers
had remained on duty until the last, and now he was exerting
his every faculty in the effort to save as many of the men as
possible without losing the ship in the doing of it. Only
between waves was the entrance to the main cabins negotiable,
while the forecastle hatch had been abandoned entirely after it
had with difficulty been replaced following the retreat of three
of the crew to that part of the ship.
The mucker stood beside Theriere as the latter beat back
the men when the seas threatened. It was the man's first
experience of the kind. Never had he faced death in the
courage-blighting form which the grim harvester assumes when
he calls unbridled Nature to do his ghastly bidding.
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