happy fortune which had opened the way for me to board the Namur must also intervene to aid me in solving future problems.  Mine was the philosophy of a sailor, to whom peril was but a part of life.  All I seemed to require now was a sufficiency of courage and faith—­the opportunity would be given.  In this spirit of aroused hope, I continued to stare out into the black night, watchfully, the shrouded deck behind me silent, and seemingly deserted, except for the steady tramp from rail to rail of LeVere, keeping his lonely watch aft.  The crew had disappeared, lying down no doubt in corners out of the wind.  And this wind was certainly rising, already attaining a force to be reckoned with, for the boom of waves hurled against the bows of the laboring bark, was steadily becoming more noticeable, while overhead the ropes sang dismally.  I wondered that LeVere hung on so long in his perilous position, although, in spite of the increased strain, the anchor still clung firmly.  Quite probably he had received stern orders not to shift from his present position until the boat returned, yet surely his judgment as a competent seaman, left in command, must make him aware of the threatening danger.  He would never wreck his vessel merely because he had been instructed to remain at that particular spot.  It seemed to me that no hawser ever made could long withstand the terrific strain of our tugging, as the struggling bark rose and fell in the grip of the sea.  To him must have come the same conviction, for suddenly his high-pitched voice sang out from the poop: 

“Stand by, forrard, to lower the starboard anchor; move lively, men.  Everything ready, Haines?”

“All clear, sir.  Come on the jump, bullies!”

“Then let go smartly.  Watch that you don’t get the line fouled.  Aloft there!  Anything in sight, Cavere?”

From high up on the fore-top yard, the answer, blown by the wind, came down in broken English: 

“Non, M’sieur; I see nottings.”

“Well, don’t go to sleep; keep both eyes open!”

I had already joined the watch forward, aware only of the numerous dim, and shapeless figures about me, busily employed in straightening out the kinks in the heavy cable.  The number of men on deck was evidence of a large crew, there being many more than were necessary for the work to be done.  Most of them appeared to be able seamen, and Haines drove them mercilessly, cursing them for lubbers, and twice kicking viciously at a stooping form.  There was no talking, only the growl of an occasional oath, the slapping of the hawser on deck, and the sharp orders of Haines.  Then the great rope began to slip swiftly through the hawse hole, and we heard the sharp splash as the iron flukes struck the water, and sank.  Almost at that same instant the voice of Cavere rang out from the mast-head: 

“A sail, M’sieur—­a sail!”

“Where away?”

“Off ze port quarter.  I make eet to be ze leetle boat—­she just round ze point”