All sails set, even to a spinnaker she carried, she was making the best of the little breeze.

I tried to read her name, but the vessel jibed sharply as though the hands of the man at the wheel had suddenly dropped the helm--and then with equal abruptness swung back to her course.

The stern came in sight, and on it I read Brunhilda.
I shifted my glasses to the man at wheel.

He was crouching down over the spokes in a helpless, huddled sort of way, and even as I looked the vessel veered again, abruptly as before.

I saw the helmsman straighten up and bring the wheel about with a vicious jerk.
He stood so for a moment, looking straight ahead, entirely oblivious of us, and then seemed again to sink down within himself.