But through it all I clung to the one idea--_I must get the jib backed over to windward_.

I had no fear of death.

I had no doubt but that I should come through somehow.

And as this idea of fulfilling Wolf Larsen's order persisted in my dazed consciousness, I seemed to see him standing at the wheel in the midst of the wild welter, pitting his will against the will of the storm and defying it.
I brought up violently against what I took to be the rail, breathed, and breathed the sweet air again.

I tried to rise, but struck my head and was knocked back on hands and knees.