He continued to cling fast despite the fact that Olan Oleson's hand was over his own, pressing the knuckles to make the fingers relax and slip. But now the Columbia swung over to the other side, and he felt his feet touch the rigging below. The gasket slipped; but legs and arms were on the alert, and in a second more he found himself safe, on a level with Olan Oleson's feet. Fearing a kick, he lost no time in descending still further, until, finding himself at Luke Striker's side, he deemed himself comparatively safe.
The storm had evidently reached its height, and as the Columbia carried her lower sails well, there was nothing for the sailors to do but to stand around and wait until the wind should either increase or decrease. The spray was flying everywhere, and Larry followed Striker into the forecastle for his oilskin coat.
"'Pears to me I heard somebody cry for help when I was aloft," remarked the Yankee sailor. "Must have been the wind, but it did sound very much like a human voice."
"It was a human voice," answered Larry. "I yelled just as loud as I could."
"And what for? Were you afraid of falling?"
