“‘Well,’ says I, ‘you might get another attackt.’
“‘No fear,’ says he; ‘’tis foolishness t’ think. It don’t come t’ nothin’.’
“‘Not in a moment o’ grace,’ says he. ‘An’, Tumm,’ says he, ‘at this instant, my condition,’ says he, ‘is one o’ salvation.’
“‘Then,’ says I, ‘you follow me, an’ we’ll do a tidy job with that there stays’l.’
“An’ out on the jib-boom we went. We’d pretty near finished the job when the _Three Sisters_ stuck her nose into a thundering sea. When she shook that off, I yelled t’ Botch t’ look out for two more. If he heard, he didn’t say so; he was too busy spittin’ salt water. We was still there when the second sea broke. But when the third fell, an’ my eyes was shut, an’ I was grippin’ the boom for dear life, I felt a clutch on my ankle; an’ the next thing I knowed I was draggin’ in the water, with a grip on the bobstay, an’ something tuggin’ at my leg like a whale on a fish-line. I knowed ’twas Botch, without lookin’, for it couldn’t be nothin’ else. An’ when I looked, I seed un lyin’ in the foam at the schooner’s bow, bobbin’ under an’ up. His head was on a pillow o’ froth, an’ his legs was swingin’ in a green, bubblish swirl beyond.
“The hiss an’ swish o’ the seas was hellish. Botch spat water an’ spoke, but I couldn’t hear. I ’lowed, though, that ’twas whether I could keep my grip a bit longer.
“He nodded a most agreeable thank you. ‘I wants t’ think a minute,’ says he.
“On deck they hadn’t missed us yet. The rain was thick an’ sharp-edged, an’ the schooner’s bow was forever in a mist o’ spray.
“He’d hauled his head out o’ the froth. They wasn’t no trouble in his eyes no more. His eyes was clear an’ deep—with a little laugh lyin’ far down in the depths.
“‘I can’t wait no longer,’ says he. ‘I wants t’ know. An’ I’m so near, now,’ says he, ‘that I ’low I’ll just find out.’
“I swear by the God that made me,” Tumm declared, “that he was smilin’ the last I seed of his face in the foam! He wanted t’ know—an’ he found out! But I wasn’t quite so curious,” Tumm added, “an’ I hauled my hulk out o’ the water, an’ climbed aboard. An’ I run aft; but they wasn’t nothin’ t’ be seed but the big, black sea, an’ the froth o’ the schooner’s wake and o’ the wild white horses.”