On went the ship, and on went the life-preserver, skipping and dancing over the waves.

They let out lots of line, but still the life-preserver was towed away.
A regular howl went up from our raft.

I thought some of the men would jump into the sea and swim after the ship, which was now rapidly leaving us.

We heard a shout from the vessel, but what it meant I did not know.
On she went, and on, as if she was never coming back.
"She'll come back," said the captain.

"She'll tack again." But it was hard to believe him.