If you succeed, take the best observations possible and
report."
Courtenay was becoming anxious now. If he dared let go the wheel he
would have climbed the mast himself. Walker set about his mission in a
business-like manner. He threw off his thick coat and boots, and went
forward. Half-way up the mast there was a rope ladder for the use of the
sailors when adjusting pulleys.
The rest of the journey was not difficult for an athletic man, and Walker
was quickly an indistinct figure in the fog. He gained the truck all
right, and instantly yelled something. Courtenay fancied he said:
"My God! We-ah on the wocks!"
Whatever it was, Walker did not wait, but slid downward with such speed
that it was fortunate the rigging barred his progress.
And then, even while Courtenay was shouting for some explanation, a great
black wall rose out of the deep on the port bow. It was a pinnacle rock,
high as the ship's masts, but only a few feet wide at sea level, and the
_Kansas_ sped past this ugly monitor as though it were a buoy in a
well-marked channel.
Courtenay heard the sea breaking against it.
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