Courtenay stooped and swung the other clear of the fight,
for the second and third officers were using their fists, and Walker,
even in the hurry of his ascent from the stoke-hold, had not let go of
a spanner. The yells and curses, the trampling of dim forms swaying in
the fight, the roaring of the gale, and the incessant crash of heavy
spray made up a ghastly pandemonium. It was an orgy of terror, of wild
abandon, of hopeless striving on the edge of the pit--a stupid madness
at the best, as the ship's life-boats on the port side were on the spar
deck; in their panic the men were endeavoring to lower a dingy. Yet
Courtenay saw that discipline was regaining its influence. He thought
to inspire confidence and stop useless savagery by a sharp command.
"All hands follow me to starboard!"
The struggle ceased instantly. The captain's order seemed to imply
some new scheme. Men who, a moment ago, would have killed any one who
sought to restrain them from clearing the boat's falls, now raced
pell-mell after their officers. No heed was paid to those who lay on
the deck, wounded or insensible.
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