Officers
shouting, men swearing, rigging cracking, the vessels crashing and
thumping together, I thought we were gone, when the first lieutenant
seized his trumpet--"Silence, men; hold your tongues, you cowards, and
mind the word of command!"
The effect was magical.--"Brace round the foreyard--round with it; set
the jib--that's it--fore-top-mast staysail--haul--never mind if the
gale takes it out of the bolt-rope"--a thundering flap, and away it
flew in truth down to leeward, like a puff of white smoke.--"Never
mind, men, the jib stands. Belay all that--down with the helm,
now--don't you see she has stern way yet? Zounds! we shall be smashed
to atoms if you don't mind your hands, you lubbers--main-topsail sheets
let fly--there she pays off, and has headway once more--that's it:
right your helm, now--never mind his spanker-boom, the fore-stay will
stand it: there--up with helm, sir--we have cleared him--hurrah!" And
a near thing it was too, but we soon had everything snug; and although
the gale continued without any intermission for ten days, at length we
ran in and anchored with our prize in Five-Fathom Hole, off the
entrance to St. George's Harbour.
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