“O youth!  The strength of it, the faith of it, the imagination of it!  To me she was not an old rattle-trap carting about the world a lot of coal for a freight—­to me she was the endeavour, the test, the trial of life.  I think of her with pleasure, with affection, with regret—­as you would think of someone dead you have loved.  I shall never forget her. . . .  Pass the bottle.

“One night when tied to the mast, as I explained, we were pumping on, deafened with the wind, and without spirit enough in us to wish ourselves dead, a heavy sea crashed aboard and swept clean over us.  As soon as I got my breath I shouted, as in duty bound, ‘Keep on, boys!’ when suddenly I felt something hard floating on deck strike the calf of my leg.  I made a grab at it and missed.  It was so dark we could not see each other’s faces within a foot—­you understand.

“After that thump the ship kept quiet for a while, and the thing, whatever it was, struck my leg again.  This time I caught it—­and it was a saucepan.  At first, being stupid with fatigue and thinking of nothing but the pumps, I did not understand what I had in my hand.  Suddenly it dawned upon me, and I shouted, ’Boys, the house on deck is gone.  Leave this, and let’s look for the cook.’

“There was a deck-house forward, which contained the galley, the cook’s berth, and the quarters of the crew.  As we had expected for days to see it swept away, the hands had been ordered to sleep in the cabin—­the only safe place in the ship.  The steward, Abraham, however, persisted in clinging to his berth, stupidly, like a mule—­from sheer fright I believe, like an animal that won’t leave a stable falling in an earthquake.  So we went to look for him.  It was chancing death, since once out of our lashings we were as exposed as if on a raft.  But we went.  The house was shattered as if a shell had exploded inside.  Most of it had gone overboard—­stove, men’s quarters, and their property, all was gone; but two posts, holding a portion of the bulkhead to which Abraham’s bunk was attached, remained as if by a miracle.  We groped in the ruins and came upon this, and there he was, sitting in his bunk, surrounded by foam and wreckage, jabbering cheerfully to himself.  He was out of his mind; completely and for ever mad, with this sudden shock coming upon the fag-end of his endurance.  We snatched him up, lugged him aft, and pitched him head-first down the cabin companion.  You understand there was no time to carry him down with infinite precautions and wait to see how he got on.  Those below would pick him up at the bottom of the stairs all right.  We were in a hurry to go back to the pumps.  That business could not wait.  A bad leak is an inhuman thing.