I
disliked, too, the tremendous surges of the fore-sail, when it
occasionally collapsed and as suddenly filled, menacing to start every
bolt, and to part every rope connected with block or spar.
"We must get in that fore-course, Mr. Talcott," I said, "or we shall
lose something. I see the ship ahead is under bare-poles, and it were
better we were as snug. If I did not dislike losing such a wind, it
would be wiser to heave-to the ship; man the buntlines and
clew-garnets, at once, and wait for a favourable moment."
We had held on to our canvass too long; the fault of youth. As I had
determined to shorten sail, however, we now set about it in earnest,
and with all the precautions exacted by the circumstances. Everybody
that could be mustered, was placed at the clew-lines and buntlines,
with strict orders to do his best at the proper moments. The
first-mate went to the tack, and the second to the sheet. I was to
take in the sail myself. I waited for a collapse; and then, while the
ship was buried between two mounds of water, when it was impossible to
see a hundred yards from her in any direction, and the canvass was
actually dropping against the mast I gave the usual orders. Every man
hauled, as if for life, and we had got the clews pretty well up, when
the vessel came out of the cavern into the tempest, receiving the
whole power of the gale, with a sudden surge, into the bellying
canvass.
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