Her sails flapped, she lost her speed, and, as she rose again,
the second wave was a moment too quick for her, and its combing crest
caught her. The first thing Lucy saw was Jack running from the helm
with a loud cry of fear, followed by what looked an arch of fire, but
sounded like a lion rushing, growling on its prey, and directly her
feet and ankles were in a pool of water. David bounded aft, swearing
and splashing through it, and it turned into sparks of white fire
flying this way and that. He seized the helm, and discharged a loud
volley of curses at Jack.
"Fling out ballast, ye d--d cowardly, useless lubber," cried he; and
while Jack, who had recoiled into his normal state of nerves with
almost ridiculous rapidity, was heaving out ballast, David discharged
another rolling volley at him.
"Oh, pray don't!" cried Lucy, trembling like an aspen leaf. "Oh,
think! we shall soon be in the presence of our Maker--of Him whose
name you--"
"Not we," cried David, with broad, cheerful incredulity; "we have lots
more mischief to do--that lubber and I. And if he thinks he is going
there, let him end like a man, not like a skulking lubber, running
from the helm, and letting the craft come up in the wind."
"No, no, it was the sea he ran from. Who would not?"
"The lubber! If it had been a tiger or a bear I'd say nothing; but
what is the use of trying to run from the sea? Should have stuck to
his post, and set that thundering back of his up--it's broad
enough--and kept the sea out of your boots.
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