As we
approached I stood up with one foot planted on the gunwale ready to
spring; the broken shrouds were streaming aft and alongside, so that if
I missed the jump and fell into the water there was plenty of stuff to
catch hold of.
"Gently--'vast rowing--ready to back astern smartly!" I cried as we
approached. I waited a moment: the hull rolled toward us, and the
succeeding swell threw up our boat; the deck, though all aslant, was on
a line with my feet. I sprung with all my strength, and got well upon
the deck, but fell heavily as I reached it. However, I was up again in
a moment, and ran forward out of the water.
Here was a heap of gear--stay-sail, and jib-halyards, and other ropes,
some of the ends swarming overboard. I hauled in one of these ends,
but found I could not clear the raffle; but looking round, I perceived
a couple of coils of line--spare stun'-sail tacks or halyards I took
them to be--lying close against the foot of the bowsprit. I
immediately seized the end of one of these coils, and flung it into the
boat, telling them to drop clear of the wreck astern; and when they
found they had backed as far as the length of the line permitted, I
bent on the end of the other coil, and paid that out until the boat was
some fathoms astern.
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