"Yaw," said the Dane, "I don't like the sky to the eastward."
In the cabin, the Captain was sorting over some old letters. "Here," said he, "is a picture of my two boys. They are living in Berkeley. Their mother died two years ago while I was in South America. The doctor said it was T. B." With tears in his eyes he said, "I suppose it had to be, but don't you know, they are quite happy. They are living with their aunt. Oh, children forget so soon, so soon." Picking up the pictures, and with a look of hatred in his eyes he said, "The sea is no place for a married man."
At seven bells I came on deck to take the meridian altitude of the sun. It was now partly cloudy, and hard to get a clear horizon, as the sun would dive in and out from behind the clouds. What little wind there was came from the southeast.
"I guess we shall have to rely on your dead reckoning," said the Captain, "the barometer is dropping, and it looks as if we are in for a gale."
At four o'clock in the afternoon it commenced to blow from the southeast. We took in staysails, topsails and flying-jib. She was close-hauled and headed southwest. In the first dog-watch the wind increased.
"Call all hands," said the Captain, "we must reef her down."
The spanker-boom projected over the stern about twenty feet. It was no easy matter reefing this sail, with the wind and sea increasing and her shipping an occasional sea. There was some danger of one's being washed overboard and very little chance of saving a life. But now was the time to find out if our sailors were from the old school. I loved the storms, and the wild raging seas and angry skies,—no sea gull ever enjoyed the tempest more than I.
"Here you, Johnson, Nelson and Swanson, lay out on the boom, haul out and pass your reef-earring, and be quick about it."
Swanson said: "I'll not go out there. The foot-rope is too short."
"By God, you'll go out there if I have to haul you with a handy billy."