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Cargill obviously braced himself for action and then gave his preliminary order to the wheel.

'Helm's alee!' he bellowed, but not a very effective bellow, for his voice cracked half-way.

'Headsail sheets!' That was hardly better. It would not have served in a gale of wind, although it carried forward in present conditions. Jib and fore-topsail began to shiver.

'Raise up tacks and sheets!'

Hotspur was coming round into the wind, rising to an even keel. She was coming round, coming round--now was she going to hang in stays?

'Haul, mains'l! Haul!'

This was the crucial moment. The hands knew their business; the port side bowlines and braces were cast off smartly, and the hands tailed on to the starboard side ones. Round came the yards, but the Hotspur refused to answer. She baulked. She hung right in the eye of the wind, and then fell off again two points to port, with every sail a-shiver and every yard of way lost. She was in irons, helpless until further action should be taken.

'A fine thing if we were on a lee shore, sir,' growled Bush.