then the lightning lit up the firmament again. "Look! look!" yelled Watt Brown, and at the sound of the second mate's voice all in the boat turned, to see one of the craft to our starboard founder beneath a curling wave that looked higher than a six-story office building.
"What boat is that?" I cried.
"Don't know exactly, but it looked like Tom Dawson's," was the answer, which almost prostrated me. Was it possible that Dan had been lost thus quickly?
"Won't you try to pick them up?" I went on, when I could speak. "Surely you won't forsake them!"
"We'll try it,—but it's wuss nor looking for a pin in a haystack," was the second mate's reply. "To starboard, boys, but don't get caught under a capper, or it will be all up with us." And then our own craft veered around and moved slowly and painfully over the billows to the spot where the other small boat had gone down.
