As the mother in catastrophe tries to gain her babe, as the Greek who, dying, remembered sweet Argos, as soldiers on a stricken field pass with the names of their women upon their lips, so Jerry, in this wreck of a world, yearned toward Skipper.
The squall ceased as abruptly as it had struck.

The _Arangi_ righted with a jerk to an even keel, leaving Jerry stranded in the starboard scuppers.

He trotted across the level deck to Skipper, who, standing erect on wide-spread legs, the bight of the mainsheet still in his hand, was exclaiming: "Gott-fer-dang! Wind he go! Rain he no come!" He felt Jerry's cool nose against his bare calf, heard his joyous sniff, and bent and caressed him.

In the darkness he could not see, but his heart warmed with knowledge that Jerry's tail was surely bobbing.
Many of the frightened return boys had crowded on deck, and their plaintive, querulous voices sounded like the sleepy noises of a roost of birds.

Borckman came and stood by Van Horn's shoulder, and both men, strung to their tones in the tenseness of apprehension, strove to penetrate the surrounding blackness with their eyes, while they listened with all their ears for any message of the elements from sea and air.
"Where's the rain ?" Borckman demanded peevishly.