She might broach-to any
time, and then all would be over. Poor Joe! Not a soul was there to
comfort him. The Spanish sluggards came up sometimes and scowled, then
they went below again. It was cruel work. The skipper of the Esperanza
made desperate efforts to get up, but dusk fell before he came near,
and then it was too late to try anything especially as the barque was
going yard-arm under. Dark fell, and Joe heard moaning and gibbering
once more. The captain was creeping along the deck, "saying something
about Madd-ray," as Joe put it. "It was him as was mad," the smacksman
said, with an attempt at humour. "He made a try to stick me, and I felt
something sting my arm like a pin going in."
That was true. The maddened drunkard made a staggering attempt to stab
Glenn, and then, with a yell, he poised on the rail and jumped into the
sea.
That was really about enough for one Christmas Day, and Joe's nerve was
all gone.
The cold seemed to grip his blood, for he had taken little good
nourishment; the vessel was helpless, and there was no shelter from the
flying rivers of water that came over.
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