198 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



But after the first wild plunge her antics abruptly changed from the 

 tortured banging and wriggling of the past five hours, when she had 

 fought across the wind, to a steady pitching. The canvas started an 

 hysterical flapping aloft. 



"Foresail away!" yelled Mate Pritchard above the roaring din. 

 "Steady on the pull, men; keep her nose to the wind, Mr. Garvey." 

 Then, turning forward, he again cupped his hands and, filling 

 his lungs to the utmost, bellowed against the storm, "All square, 

 sir." 



There were four sturdy men on the forward oars — the Indian 

 Amasak of Wauwinet, the Macy boys, and Michel Audant, the West 

 Indian — the double-reefed mainsail was now close-hauled, and the 

 little vessel had the lines of a porpoise so that once she was head to 

 wind, even in a storm such as blew that night, she rode easily and the 

 oarsmen hardly had to pull at all to keep her steady. No man aboard 

 spoke a word, only Michel Audant grunted loudly and rhythmically 

 as he pulled on his oar, while the rowlocks of the other three creaked 

 and banged in perfect unison with his. The elements howled on. 



This was the fourth time during the night they had come up into 

 the wind. Each time they had pitched thus, up and down over the 

 endless, foam-crested waves for what had seemed to every man to 

 be an eternity. On no occasion had anyone spoken so much as a 

 whispered word to another. So absolutely black was the night that 

 none could see even his closest companion, and all awaited the next 

 command, fearful of missing its import, for while the precedence of 

 commands was maintained even in this extremity, every man aboard 

 wanted to hear the command himself from the master. They knew 

 Captain Hussey and they knew that it was ultimately on him alone 

 that they must depend to be saved. 



But this time, those aft who were not manning the oars and who 

 were thus free to crouch facing forward began to call out to each 

 other because, slowly and unmistakably, the shrouds were becoming 

 visible as blacker lines against the blackness of the sky. Dawn at last 

 was sweeping gently up beyond the horizon, Ughting the darkness 

 ahead of it with that blueness that is just not black. It was Isaiah 

 Garvey, standing to the tiller, who first dimly saw the silhouette of 

 Captain Hussey rocking against the paling sky in the extreme fore- 

 peak of the boat. 



