Keep your heads now!" Clinging like a leech to the canted roof of the forward cabin, Steve himself worked along with the rope and, half-drowned in rain and surf, made it fast to the cleat.

The others, struggling into life-belts, clung to the stanchions or whatever they could find.

Steve crawled back with the coil, drenched and breathless.
"We've got to get off, fellows," he said.

"It's only a dozen yards to the beach and we can make it all right.

Close every hatch.