I had no business to remain there; every prospect of security depended on my joining the crew, but it was not in my power to desert my position.

I could hear the hurrying feet of the watch tramping across the deck in response to LeVere's orders; the heavy pounding of a marling-spike on the forecastle hatch, as Haines called for all hands.

I was aware that men were already mounting the ratlines, and laying out on the upper yards to make sail, while the capstan bars began rattling.

Yet only one thought gripped me--_Sanchez was not dead_! I had believed he was; I had staked all on his death as a certainty.

But instead, the man was lying there in the boat, helpless at present, sorely wounded perhaps, yet still alive.