Although he did not comprehend it, he apprehended it no less poignantly than do men who know and generalize far more deeply and widely than mere four-legged dogs.
As a man struggles in the throes of nightmare, so Jerry struggled in the vexed, salt-suffocating sea.

And so he whimpered and cried, lost child, lost puppy-dog that he was, only half a year existent in the fair world sharp with joy and suffering.

And he _wanted_ _Skipper_.

Skipper was a god.
* * * * * On board the _Arangi_, relieved by the lowering of her mainsail, as the fierceness went out of the wind and the cloudburst of tropic rain began to fall, Van Horn and Borckman lurched toward each other in the blackness.
"A double squall," said Van Horn.

"Hit us to starboard and to port." "Must a-split in half just before she hit us," the mate concurred.
"And kept all the rain in the second half--" Van Horn broke off with an oath.
"Hey! What's the matter along you fella boy ?" he shouted to the man at the wheel.
For the ketch, under her spanker which had just then been flat-hauled, had come into the wind, emptying her after-sail and permitting her headsails to fill on the other tack.