As she squared off more and more, escaping from the side pressure, she righted herself and broke her deck, like a whale's back, through the ocean surface.
Then we raced, and wildly, across the wild sea, the while I hung like a fly in the crosstrees and searched for the other boats.

In half-an-hour I sighted the second one, swamped and bottom up, to which were desperately clinging Jock Horner, fat Louis, and Johnson.

This time I remained aloft, and Wolf Larsen succeeded in heaving to without being swept.

As before, we drifted down upon it.

Tackles were made fast and lines flung to the men, who scrambled aboard like monkeys.