“And you will take the wheel?�
“Gladly.�
“Very well,� said I, “you have nothing to do but keep her before the wind.�
With that, axe in hand I went forward. I put in the hardest hour or two of work in my life. I never stopped a moment except to throw back a word or two to my little mistress guiding the ship. By the time I had finished, the decks of The Rose of Devon presented an entirely different appearance. I had chopped away and thrown overboard the mast wreckage. When it was too heavy, I clapped a tackle to it to assist me. The tangled gear had been overhauled and each brace, line, and halyard had been coiled and hung to its proper pin. Although the ship looked desolate and forlorn enough to a sailor, and to anyone else perhaps, there was no confusion or disorder.
By this time it was high noon. I knocked off work therefore and, upon her insistence, relieved her at the wheel while she went below to the lazarette where the cabin stores were kept, to prepare us something to eat. She said that was her task, and although it irked me to see her compelled to do anything, there was truth in her words. I can do most things but cook. There, I confess, I fail. I did kindle a fire for her in the galley, however, and about one o’clock we had a royal dinner, the first civilized meal, so to speak, that we had enjoyed since the day of the mutiny. She brought it up on deck and we ate it together. After dinner she surprised me by proffering me a pipe which she had found below—it had been Captain Matthews’—and a pouch of tobacco, and nothing would do but that I must smoke before turning to again. I confess that it tasted sweet to me, and felt sorry that she could not enjoy the luxury, and told her so, which seemed to give her great amusement.
Her light-heartedness cheered me immensely. To be sure she did not quite imagine the extent of the problem that lay before us, or perhaps she knew more about it than I fancied, but whatever be the facts, I could not feel downhearted or downcast when she smiled at me as she did then.
Well, the hour of refreshment and rest at last came to an end. Surrendering the wheel to her, I went forward. I had determined to loose the mainsail first, if I could, and then loose the foresail and topsail. The first was an easy enough task. It took me some time to climb out on each of the yardarms and cast off the gaskets, but presently the huge sail hung in the buntlines. I came down by the backstays, clapped a watch tackle on each sheet and finally succeeded in getting the sail set as taut as the bolt ropes would allow. My mistress clapped her hands with joy when I had succeeded. The slow pace of the ship was much increased by the draw of the big mainsail.
I did the same thing with the foresail and then boldly tackled the fore-topsail, but here I met with greater difficulties for the topsail yard—it was a single topsail—had to be mastheaded if the sail was to be of any use. Although I clapped several tackles on it and pulled and hauled lustily, it taxed my strength beyond its limit. It was my mistress who came to my assistance. She lashed the wheel amidships while watching me pull at the halyards, and came and seized the tarred rope with her own hands and laid back with a will.
It was just the added pound or two that was needed, and slowly, readjusting the tackles from time to time, we at last mastheaded the fore-topsail yard. I was glad that The Rose of Devon was a small ship, for had that yard been a foot longer or a pound heavier, we had never done it. When I had finished I carefully braced the yards, then I cast off the lashings of the wheel and shifted it until the wind came from the starboard quarter and lo and behold we were headed due eastward!
The breeze was growing stronger but it was still gentle. It blew fair and held steady. If it would only blow long enough and hold without change we would inevitably fetch the South American coast, which I estimated something more than fifteen hundred leagues away.