I stood there, resisting the undertow tugging at my limbs, and barely able to retain my footing, intent upon my purpose.  Full strength had come back to my muscles, and my head was again clear.  The imminent sense of danger seemed to bring me a feeling of happiness, of new confidence in myself.  The die was cast, and whatever the result, I was going ahead to accomplish all that was humanly possible.  From now on there was to be no doubting, no turning back.  A voice, high-pitched, echoed to me across the water, reaching my ears a mere thread of sound, the words indistinguishable.  It must have been an order, for, a moment later, I distinguished the clank of capstan bars, as though men of the crew were engaged in warping the vessel off shore for greater safety.  The movement was too deliberate and noiseless to mean the lifting of the anchor, nor was it accompanied by any flapping of sail, or shifting of yards to denote departure.  Nevertheless even this movement decided me to delay my attempt no longer, and, with strong, silent strokes I swam forward, directly breasting the force of the incoming sea, yet making fair progress.  Some unconsidered current must have swept me to the right, for, when the outlines of the bark again became dimly visible through the night, I found myself well to starboard of the vessel, and quite likely would have passed it by altogether, but for the sudden rattle of a block aloft, causing me to glance in that direction.  As my eyes explored the darkness, yet uncertain that I really beheld the Namur, a light flared for a brief instant, and I had glimpse of a face illumined by the yellow glare, as the single spark of flame ignited a cigarette.  It was all over with so swiftly, swallowed up in that blackness, as to seem a vision of imagination.  Yet I knew it to be real.  Stroking well under water, and with only my eyes exposed above the surface, I changed my course to the left, and slowly and cautiously drew in toward the starboard bow.  A few moments later, unperceived from above, and protected from observation by the bulge of the overhang, and density of shadow, my hands clung to the anchor hawser, my mind busy in devising some means for attaining the deck.

CHAPTER X

ON THE DECK OF THE NAMUR

It was here that fortune favored me, strengthening my decision, and yielding a fresh courage to persevere.  The pounding of the seas against the bow rendered other sounds, for the moment, unnoticeable, while the current swept so strongly against my submerged body as to compel me to cling tightly to the swaying rope to prevent being overcome.  Close as I was the bark appeared scarcely more than a dense shadow swaying above me, without special form, and unrevealed by the slightest gleam of light, merely a vast bulk, towering between sea and sky.  Forking out, however, directly over where I clung desperately to the wet hawser, my eyes were able to trace the bow-sprit, a