And it may be that just as you alter your
course, daring no longer to hold on, and, as you have every
reason to believe, be run down, the other man alters his. Then a
few breathless moments ensue, an awful crash, and the two vessels
tear each other to pieces, spilling the life that they contain
over the hungry sea. Even if you escape, YOU are to blame for
not keeping your course, unless it can be proved that you were
not seen by the running ship.
Well, we kept our course until, I verily believe, another plunge
would have cut us sheer in two halves. At the last moment our
helm was put hard down, bringing our vessel right up into the
wind at the same moment as the helmsman on board the other vessel
caught sight of us, and instinctively put his helm down too. The
two vessels swung side by side amidst a thunderous roar of
flapping canvas, crackling of fallen spars, and rending of wood
as the shrouds tore away the bulwarks. All our davits were
ripped from the starboard side, and most of our bulwarks too;
but, strangely enough, we lost no spars nor any important gear.
There seemed to be a good deal of damage done on board the
stranger, where, in addition, all hands were at their wits' end.
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