This was then our object, and
the helm was put to starboard as we went slowly past, the tide
checking our speed. The ship sheered into a sort of roadstead--a very
wild one it was--as soon as she had room. It was ticklish work, for no
one could tell how soon we might hit a rock; but we went clear,
luffing quite near to the land, where we let go both bowers at the
same instant. The ship's way had been sufficiently deadened, by
throwing her up as near the wind as she could be got, and there was no
difficulty in snubbing her. The lead gave us seven fathoms, and this
within pistol-shot of the shore. We knew we were temporarily safe. The
great point was to ascertain how the vessel would tend, and with how
much strain upon her cables. To everybody's delight, it was found we
were in a moderate eddy, that drew the ship's stern from the island,
and allowed her to tend to the wind, which still had a fair range from
her top-sail yards to the trucks. Lower down, the tempest scuffled
about, howling and eddying, and whirling first to one side, and then
to the other, in a way to prove how much its headlong impetuosity was
broken and checked by the land. It is not easy to describe the relief
we felt at these happy chances. It was like giving foothold to some
wretch who thought a descent of the precipice was inevitable.
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