I could not feel the full force of the wind， for we were running with it； but from my lofty perch I looked down as though outside the Ghost and apart from her， and saw the shape of her outlined sharply against the foaming sea as she tore along instinct with life.Sometimes she would lift and send across some great wave， burying her starboard rail from view， and covering her deck to the hatches with the boiling ocean.At such moments， starting from a windward roll， I would go flying through the air with dizzying swiftness， as though I clung to the end of a huge， inverted pendulum， the arc of which， between the greater rolls， must have been seventy feet or more.Once， the terror of this giddy sweep overpowered me， and for a while I clung on， hand and foot， weak and trembling， unable to search the sea for the missing boats or to behold aught of the sea but that which roared beneath and strove to overwhelm the Ghost.
But the thought of the men in the midst of it steadied me， and in my quest for them I forgot myself.For an hour I saw nothing but the naked， desolate sea.And then， where a vagrant shaft of sunlight struck the ocean and turned its surface to wrathful silver， I caught a small black speck thrust skyward for an instant and swallowed up.I waited patiently.Again the tiny point of black projected itself through the wrathful blaze a couple of points off our port-bow.I did not attempt to shout， but communicated the news to Wolf Larsen by waving my arm.He changed the course， and Isignalled affirmation when the speck showed dead ahead.
It grew larger， and so swiftly that for the first time I fully appreciated the speed of our flight.Wolf Larsen motioned for me to come down， and when I stood beside him at the wheel gave me instructions for heaving to.
"Expect all hell to break loose，" he cautioned me， "but don't mind it.
Yours is to do your own work and to have Cooky stand by the fore-sheet."I managed to make my way forward， but there was little choice of sides， for the weather-rail seemed buried as often as the lee.Having instructed Thomas Mugridge as to what he was to do， I clambered into the fore rigging a few feet.The boat was now very close， and could make out plainly that it was lying head to wind and sea and dragging on its mast and sail， which had been thrown overboard and made to serve as a sea-anchor.The three men were bailing.Each rolling mountain whelmed them from view， and I would wait with sickening anxiety， fearing that they would never appear again.
Then， and with black suddenness， the boat would shoot clear through the foaming crest， bow pointed to the sky， and the whole length of her bottom showing， wet and dark， till she seemed on end.There would be a fleeting glimpse of the three men flinging water in frantic haste， when she would topple over and fall into the yawning valley， bow down and showing her full inside length to the stern up-reared almost directly above the bow.
Each time that she reappeared was a miracle.
The Ghost suddenly changed her course， keeping away， and it came to me with a shock that Wolf Larsen was giving up the rescue as impossible.
Then I realized that he was preparing to heave to， and dropped to the deck to be in readiness.We were now dead before the wind， the boat far away and abreast of us.I felt an abrupt easing of the schooner， a loss for the moment of all strain and pressure， coupled with a swift acceleration of speed.She was rushing around on her heel into the wind.
As she arrived at right angles to the sea， the full force of the wind， (from which we had hitherto run away)， caught us.I was unfortunately and ignorantly facing it.It stood up against me like a wall， filling my lungs with air which I could not expel.And as choked and strangled， and as the Ghost wallowed for an instant， broadside on and rolling straight over and far into the wind， I beheld a huge sea rise far above my head.
I turned aside， caught my breath， and looked again.The wave overtopped the Ghost ， and I gazed sheer up and into it.A shaft of sunlight smote the over-curl， and I caught a glimpse of translucent， rushing green， backed by a milky smother of foam.
Then it descended， pandemonium broke loose， everything happened at once.
I was struck a crushing， stunning blow， nowhere in particular and yet everywhere.
My hold had been broken loose， I was under water， and the thought passed through my mind that this was the terrible thing of which I had heard， the being swept in the trough of the sea.My body struck and pounded as it was dashed helplessly along and turned over and over， and when I could hold my breath no longer， I breathed the stinging salt water into my lungs.
But through it all I clung to the one idea -- I must get the jib backed over to windward.I had no fear of death.I had no doubt but that I should come through somehow.And as this idea of fulfilling Wolf Larsen's order persisted in my dazed consciousness， I seemed to see him standing at the wheel in the midst of the wild welter， pitting his will against the will of the storm and defying it.
I brought up violently against what I took to be the rail， breathed， and breathed the sweet air again.I tried to rise， but struck my head and was knocked back on hands and knees.By some freak of the waters I had been swept clear under the forecastle-head and into the eyes.As I scrambled out on all fours， I passed over the body of Thomas Mugridge， who lay in a groaning heap.There was no time to investigate.I must get the jib backed over.
When I emerged on deck it seemed that the end of everything had come.
On all sides there was a rending and crashing of wood and steel and canvas.
The Ghost was being wrenched and torn to fragments.The foresail and fore topsail， emptied of the wind by the man渦vre， and with no one to bring in the sheet in time， were thundering into ribbons， the heavy boom threshing and splintering from rail to rail.The air was thick with flying wreckage， detached ropes and stays were hissing and coiling like snakes， and down through it all crashed the gaff of the foresail.
