Joe felt that strange, hard pain
across the brows that seizes a man who has been long sleepless, and he
could have dozed off had it not been for the continual breaking of the
seas. He saw the Esperanza's lights, and he wished that the boat could
have been sent, if it were only to give him a little company. The
rolling of the barque was awful at two in the morning, and, at last, one
violent kick parted the mizen rigging on the starboard side. Then came
one vast roll, and a ponderous rush of water, and with a tearing crash,
the mast went over the side.
Joe edged his way forward, and once more spoke to the gang in the
forecastle. By dint of signs he made them understand that he wanted a
hatchet, and he also contrived to let them know that they must go down
unless the port rigging was severed. For a wonder he got what he wanted,
and he laboured until his elbows were numbed before the bumping, rolling
mast was clear.
Four hours till daylight, and wind and sea getting worse. Something must
be done, or the strained ship would go for a certainty; it only wanted
one unlucky sea to settle her.
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