It was a clear, and
rather a chilly night; the stars were twinkling with an intense
brightness, and as far as the eye could reach, there was not a cloud
to be seen. The horizon met the sea in a defined line. A painter could
not have painted so clear a sky. There was not a speck upon it. Yet it
was blowing great guns from the north-west. When you can see a cloud
to windward, you feel that there is a place for the wind to come from;
but here it seemed to come from nowhere. No person could have told,
from the heavens, by their eyesight alone, that it was not a
summer's night. One reef after another, we took in the topsails, the
sails, and before we could get them hoisted up, we heard a sound
like a short, quick rattling of thunder, and the jib was blown to
atoms out of the bolt-rope. We got the topsails set, and the fragments
of the jib stowed away, and the fore-topmast staysail set in its
place, when the great mainsail gaped open, and the sail ripped from
head to foot. "Lay up on that main-yard and furl the sail, before it
blows to tatters!" shouted the captain; and in a moment, we were up,
gathering the remains of it upon the yard.
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