For a moment Frank stood speechless with that deadly chill creeping round his young heart, and his bowels¹ all awork with dread² and sympathy. But with a rush there came to him the full sense of his responsibility, the pressing need for immediate³ action, and the fact that he had now no one upon whom to lean. It was then that, for the first time in his life that he ever remembered, he murmured, removing his cap, “God help me!” Then, released at once from the numbness⁴ that the touch of the corpse⁵ had brought upon him, he bounded up the companion to the deck, shouting, “All hands shorten sail.”

 

It was a tremendous task for the handful of men, but each one was good and earnest in his work, and besides, the careful way in which the “spilling” or gathering-up gear of the sails had been arranged was an immense aid to them. So furious was the struggle that the warriors⁶ had no time to observe the absence of the skipper, and even Frank, although conscious of a curious dull pain at the heart, was far too busily employed both in mind and body to dwell upon his immense loss.

 

At last the ship was snugged⁷ down to two[273] lower topsails, a reefed foresail, lower staysails and spanker, under which easy canvas she was still making good progress. Then Frank called all hands aft and made his first speech.

 

“I hardly know how to speak to you,” he said, “but I’ve got to. When I went down to call Mr. Jacks⁸ at eight bells I found him dead.” Here he broke down, and burst into a perfect flood of passionate⁹ tears. The men gazed at him sympathetically and silently, so he recovered himself very rapidly, almost immediately in fact. He resumed: “I can

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