Frank Richardson Pierce

“ McNulty replied. He sniffed the air, believing his sense more reliable than a weather report. “A man needs room in bad weather. If we crashed on a reef——”
“Ship and cargo are insured against perils of the sea,” Pritt interrupted.
McNulty scowled fiercely. Pritt flushed. McNulty clipped his words. “Let me remind you, sir, I am a sailor first. There are certain codes a real sailor never forgets. There’s saving human lives; and there’s sailing your ship whether she’s a great liner with hundreds of passengers or a fishing schooner. Never forget that, Mr. Pritt.” ”

“ The blanket blew back, disclosing a white face coated with the grease of the engine room.
The surgeon looked up briefly. “He’ll live, I think, but that foot will have to come off. Yes, he’ll live. The sea breeds men.”
Two of the Crayton’s crew leaped back to the deck of their own vessel as seamen took their places at the stretcher. The grim Coast Guard skipper cleared his throat. “Cast off the Crayton’s lines for’d and aft,” he shouted. He looked sharply at McNulty. ”

“ He retired to his bunk, snuggled in the warmth of the blankets and listened to the roar of the storm and the break of the seas against the riveted walls. The pulsations of the engine lulled him to sleep. ”