From the stern by the cabin hatch a man came reeling toward him, holding to the rail for support with one hand and brandishing the other.

“Help!” cried the man wildly.  “Who is it?  Help us! we’re drowning!  We’re . . .  Can’t you put us ashore.  Please put us . . .  Good Lord!”

Seth made no answer.  How could he?  The man was Bennie D.

And then another figure followed the first, and a woman’s voice spoke pleadingly.

“Have you got a boat?” it cried.  “We’re adrift on this dreadful thing and . . . why, Seth!”

The woman was Emeline Bascom.

“Why, Seth!” she said again.  Then the sounds of the wind and waves and the creaking and cracking of the old schooner alone broke the silence.

But Bennie D., even under the shock of such a surprise as this, did not remain silent long.  His precious self was in danger.

“You put us ashore!” he shouted.  “You put us ashore right off, do you hear?  Don’t stand there like a fool!  Do something.  Do you want us to drown?  Do something!”

Seth came to life.  His first speech was sharp and businesslike.

“Emeline,” he said, “there’s a lantern hanging up in the cabin.  Go light it and fetch it to me.  Hurry!”

“It’s upset,” was the frightened answer.  “Bennie found it when we first came aboard.  When we—­when this awful boat started, it upset and went out.”

“Never mind.  Probably there’s ile enough left for a spell.  Go fetch it.  There’s matches in a box on the wall just underneath where ’twas hangin’.  Don’t stop to talk!  Move!”

Mrs. Bascom moved.  Seth turned to the “inventor.”

“Come for’ard with me,” he ordered.  “Here! this way! for’ard!  FOR’ARD!”

He seized his companion by the arm and pulled him toward the bow.  The frightened genius held back.

“What in time is the matter with you?” snarled the lightkeeper.  “Are your feet asleep?  Come!”

Bennie D. came, under compulsion.  Seth half led, half dragged him to the bow, and, bending down, uncoiled a rope and put it in his hands.

“Them’s the jib halliards,” he explained.  “Haul on ’em quick and hard as you can.  If we can h’ist the jib we can get some steerage way on her, maybe.  Haul! haul till you can’t haul no more.  Then hang on till I come back and make fast.”

He rushed back to the wheel.  The tiller ropes were new, and he could trust them, fortunately.  From the cabin hatchway emerged Mrs. Bascom bearing the lighted lantern.

“Good!” snapped Seth.  “Now we can see what we’re doin’ and, if we show a glim, maybe we won’t run down no more dories.  You go for’ard and—­No, you take this wheel and hold it just as ’tis.  Just as ’tis; understand?  I’ll be back in a jiffy.  What in thunder’s the matter with that foolhead at the jib?”

He seized the lantern and rushed to the bow.  Bennie D. had dropped the halliard and was leaning over the rail screaming for help.