Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast

Captain Downs whirled and found Mayo there. "How do you dare to speak to

me, you tin-kettle sailor?" demanded the master. In his passion he went

on: "You're aboard here under false pretenses. You can't even do your

work. You have made this vessel liable by assaulting a passenger. You're

no good! With you aboard here I'm just the same as one man short." But

he had no time to devote to this person.

He turned away and began to revile his mates and his sailors, his voice

rising higher each time the rampaging boom crashed from side to side.

One or two of the backstays had parted, and it was plain that before

long the mast would go by the board.

"If that mast comes out it's apt to smash us clear to the water-line,"

lamented the captain.

"If you can make your herd of sheep give me a hand at the right time,

I'll show you that a tin-kettle sailor is as good as a wind-jammer

swab," said Mayo, retaliating with some of the same sort of rancor that

Captain Downs had been expending. In that crisis he was bold enough to

presume on his identity as a master mariner. "I'd hate to find this kind

of a bunch on any steamboat I've ever had experience with."

Then he ran away before the captain had time to retort. He made a slide

across the danger zone on his back, like a runner in a ball game. This

move brought him into a safe place between the mainmast and the mizzen.

There was a coil of extra cable here, and he grabbed the loose end and

deftly made a running bowline knot. He set the noose firmly upon his

shoulders, leaped up, and caught at the hoops on the mizzenmast.

"See to it that the line runs free from that coil, and stand by for

orders!" he shouted, and though his dyed skin was dark and he wore the

garb of the common sailor, he spoke with the unmistakable tone of the

master mariner. The second mate ran to the line and took charge.

"This is a bucking bronco, all right!" muttered Mayo. "But it's for the

honor of the steamboat men! I'll show this gang!"

He poised himself for a few moments on the crotch of the boom, clinging

to the cringles of the luff--the short ropes with which the sail is

reefed.

As he stood there, gathering himself for his desperate undertaking,

waiting for opportunity, taking the measure of the lashing and insensate

monster whom he had resolved to subdue, he heard Captain Downs bawl an

impatient command: "Passengers go below!"