“You won’t be offended, I am sure, by my asking, Captain Keene, what you think of doing?”
“Not at all, Cross; it is my intention to explain it to the ship’s company before I do it. I may as well take your opinion upon it now. As soon as we are in six fathoms, I intend to cut away the masts and anchor.”
“That’s our only chance, sir, and if it is well done, and the gale abates, it may save some of us; but how do you intend to anchor?”
“I shall back the best bower with the sheet, and let go the small bower at the same time that I do the sheet, so as to ride an even strain.”
“You can’t do better, sir; but that will require time for preparation, to be well done. Do you think that we shall have time, if you wait till we are in six fathoms?”
“I don’t know but you are right, Cross, and I think it would be better to commence our preparations at once.”
“Ten fathoms, sir,” reported the officer of the watch.
“Very well, I will be on deck directly.”
“Well, sir, we must now go to our duty; and as we may chance not to talk to one another again, sir,” said Cross, “I can only say God bless you, and I hope that, if we do not meet again in this world, we shall in heaven, or as near to it as possible. Good-bye, sir.”
“Good-bye, Cross,” replied I, shaking him by the hand; “we’ll do our duty, at all events. So now for my last dying speech.”