At this instant the chief mate, who
was standing on the top of the windlass, at the foot of the spenser
mast, called out, "Lay out there and furl the jib!" This was no
agreeable or safe duty, yet it must be done. An old Swede, (the best
sailor on board,) who belonged on the forecastle, sprang out upon
the bowsprit. Another one must go: I was near the mate, and sprang
forward, threw the downhaul over the windlass, and jumped between
the knight-heads out upon the bowsprit. The crew stood abaft the
windlass and hauled the jib down while we got out upon the weather
side of the jib-boom, our feet on the foot-ropes, holding on by the
spar, the great jib flying off to leeward and slatting so as almost to
throw us off of the boom. For some time we could do nothing but hold
on, and the vessel diving into two huge seas, one after the other,
plunged us twice into the water up to our chins. We hardly knew
whether we were on or off; when coming up, dripping from the water, we
were raised high into the air. John (that was the sailor's name)
thought the boom would go, every moment, and called out to the mate to
keep the vessel off, and haul down the stay-sail; but the fury of
the wind and the breaking of the seas against the bows defied every
attempt to make ourselves heard, and we were obliged to do the best we
could in our situation.
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