IN CLASP OF THE SEA The sound of voices, of moving bodies and bits of furniture overturned were plainly discernible, but the darkness was far too dense below to permit the eye perceiving what was taking place.

Yet I could picture the scene, the leaderless mob surging blindly forward, each man vocal in his own tongue, swaying with rage, many smarting with wounds, uncertain where we had disappeared, yet all alike crazed with a desire to attain the open deck.

The rattle of steel, the curses, told me some among them had reached the arm rack, and seized whatever weapons they found there.

In their struggle the rack was overturned, and suddenly, amid the din, a shrill, penetrating voice yelled something in Spanish, which seemed to hush the clamor.

There followed a shuffling of feet, and the crash of wood as though the butt of a gun had splintered a door panel.