"Can you hold her alone for a second, Byrne?" asked
Theriere. "We must make the turn in another moment and
I've got to let out sail. The instant that you see me cut her
loose put your helm hard to starboard. She'll come around
easy enough I imagine, and then hold her nose straight for
that opening. It's one chance in a thousand; but it's the only
one. Are you game?"
"You know it, cul--go to 't," was Billy Byrne's laconic
rejoinder.
As Theriere left the wheel Barbara Harding stepped to the
mucker's side.
"Let me help you," she said. "We need every hand that we
can get for the next few moments."
"Beat it," growled the man. "I don't want no skirts in my
way."
With a flush, the girl drew back, and then turning watched
Theriere where he stood ready to cut loose the sail at the
proper instant. The vessel was now opposite the cleft in the
cliffs. Theriere had lashed a new sheet in position. Now he
cut the old one. The sail swung around until caught in
position by the stout line. The mucker threw the helm hard to
starboard. The nose of the brigantine swung quickly toward
the rocks. The sail filled, and an instant later the ship was
dashing to what seemed her inevitable doom.
Skipper Simms, seeing what Theriere had done after it was
too late to prevent it, dashed madly across the deck toward
his junior.
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