He steeled his heart and gave his orders with as much ease and precision as if it had been a practice cruise.

To the day of his death he could not account for his ability to do so.

He made a splendid figure, standing on the horse-block, his hair flowing out in the wind, his face deadly pale; calm, cool, steady; his voice clear and even, but heard in every part of the ship.

The heart of the old sailor at the helm yearned toward him, and the seamen looked at him as if he had been a demigod.

He never once looked back, but from the cries of the men he could follow every motion of the frigate behind him.