“And the cutter was borne down, every wave pushing her with giant force nearer and nearer to destruction, when the man at the chains shrieked out—­’Mark three, and the Lord have mercy on our souls!” and all the crew, when they heard this, cried out—­’Lord, save us, or we perish.’  But still they thought that their time was come, for the breaking waves were under their lee, and the yellow waters told them that, in a few minutes, the vessel, and all who were on board, would be shivered in fragments; and some wept and some prayed as they clung to the bulwarks of the unguided vessel, and others in a few minutes thought over their whole life, and waited for death in silence.  But he, he did all; he cried, and he prayed, and he swore, and he was silent, and at last he became furious and frantic; and when the men said again and again, ’The Lord save us!’ he roared out at last, “Will the devil help us, for—­’ In a moment, before these first words were out of his mouth, there was a flash of lightning, that appeared to strike the vessel, but it harmed her not, neither did any thunder follow the flash; but a ball of blue flame pitched upon the knight heads, and then came bounding and dancing aft to the taffrail, where he stood alone, for the men had left him to blaspheme by himself.  Some say he was heard to speak, as if in conversation, but no one knows what passed.  Be it as it may, on a sudden he walked forward as brave as could be, and was followed by this creature, who carried his head and tail slouching, as he does now.

“And the dog looked up and gave one deep bark, and as soon as he had barked the wind appeared to lull—­he barked again twice, and there was a dead calm—­he barked again thrice, and the seas went down—­and he patted the dog on the head, and the animal then bayed loud for a minute or two, and then, to the astonishment and fear of all, instead of the vessel being within a cable’s length of the Texel sands in a heavy gale, and without hope, the Foreland lights were but two miles on our beam with a clear sky and smooth water.”

The seaman finished his legend, and there was a dead silence for a minute or two, broken first by Jansen, who in a low voice said, “Then te tog is not a tog.”

“No,” replied Coble, “an imp sent by the devil to his follower in distress.”

“Yes,” said Short.

“Well, but,” said Jemmy Ducks, who for some time had left off touching the strings of his fiddle, “it would be the work of a good Christian to kill the brute.”

“It’s not a mortal animal, Jemmy.”

“True, I forgot that.”

“Gifen by de tyfel,” observed Jansen.

“Ay, and christened by him too,” continued Coble.  “Who ever heard any Christian brute with such a damnable name?”

“Well, what’s to be done?”

“Why,” replied Jemmy Ducks, “at all events, imp o’ Satan or not, that ere Smallbones fought him to-day with his own weapons.”