To the captain, huddled in a protected wing of the bridge, the helmsman was a mere waterfront loafer who had signed on at New York. And to the man at the wheel the captain was a paid servant of fabulously rich people. But together they were two human beings who fought the destruction of the screaming wind oblivious of the panic-stricken passengers below decks, intent only upon holding out until this blow should pass.<BR><BR>The captain stepped up beside the binnacle, clutching at it for support.<BR><BR>"Hold her into it!" he yelled above the roar of the storm.<BR><BR>"She's swinging off!"<BR><BR>He snatched the wheel away from the sailor and tried to pull it over a spoke. But the wheel lashed back once, and then spun madly in the opposite direction. The sailor risked bruised hands and stopped it, brought his back against it, swung it up, up, up, until the bow was once more taking the coming sea full on the nose.<BR><BR>"Get the hell back into the wing!" cried the sailor. "Are you trying to wreck us?"---L. Ron Hubbard<BR><BR>"He was an extremely good storyteller, he maintained fast action, very effectively."---William J. Widder