The ship was
lying three miles off, pitching at her anchor, and the farther we
pulled, the heavier grew the swell. Our boat stood nearly up and
down several times; the pinnace parted her tow-line, and we
expected every moment to see the launch swamped. We at length got
alongside, our boats half full of water; and now came the greatest
difficulty of all,- unloading the boats, in a heavy sea, which
pitched them about so that it was almost impossible to stand in
them; raising them sometimes even with the rail, and again dropping
them below the bends. With great difficulty, we got all the hides
aboard and stowed under hatches, the yard and stay tackles hooked
on, and the launch and pinnace hoisted, checked, and griped. The
quarter-boats were then hoisted up, and we began heaving in on the
chain. Getting the anchor was no easy work in such a sea, but as we
were not coming back to this port, the captain determined not to slip.
The ship's head pitched into the sea, and the water rushed through the
hawse-holes, and the chain surged so as almost to unship the barrel of
the windlass. "Hove short, sir!" said the mate.
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