The man with the gold-trimmed cap looked down at the dog whose intelligent eyes turned from face to face as though doing his best to find out why they were all looking at him, and what they wanted.

“It is too much to expect of a dog,” said the man, shaking his head.  “Even if he were strong enough, he could not understand.”

“Jan understands everything I tell him,” insisted the old man, “and it wouldn’t be any harm to try him.  When he once knows what we want him to do, he will do it or die in trying.”

Just then the boat lurched badly and the people slipped and slid on the slanting, wet deck, but Jan did not move.  His firm muscles stiffened, he braced himself steadily and his strong back straightened.  The group of officers began talking again and Jan heard them say something about his strength to Captain Smith.  A heavier wave lifted the ship from the rocks then dropped her back on the jagged edges that were stabbing her to the heart, while she writhed and groaned like a living thing in agony begging for help.

The ship’s captain turned his eyes on the group of women and children, then to the shore, as though he were measuring the distance across the raging water that boomed between the boat and land.  Slowly he turned back to the old man and the dog.

“He may be able to do it, if you can make him understand,” he said at last.  Then he added in a low voice, “It is our only hope!”

Jan saw these men all were looking at him and then the ship’s captain spoke.

“If the dog can reach shore with the light rope so we can attach the heavier one, we can rig up a breeches-buoy with the boatswain’s chair, and the women and children could ride safely, for we could lash them to it.”

Captain Smith leaned down and took Jan’s head between trembling hands.  The dog and he looked into each other’s eyes, and those who watched the two, felt a little thrill of hope.  The animal seemed struggling to grasp the meaning of the old man’s words.  A bit of rope was in the captain’s hand, he held it to Jan, who sniffed, then looked back at his master.

Still holding the piece of rope, Captain Smith led the dog to the side of the boat and pointed at the tangled coils that washed on the surface of the waves a short distance away.

“Go get it, Jan!” called the old man sharply.

The people on the deck crowded more closely, and the dog braced himself to spring, but just then a huge wave rose high over the vessel, the white-crested tip hissing like an angry snake, and Jan looked down, down, down into a dark hole and below it gleamed the jagged peaks of the reef, like threatening teeth of a hidden monster.  He knew the danger.  Drawing back he turned pleading eyes on his master.

“Go, Jan,” said the voice he loved, but this time it did not command, it begged.