To clue-lines and reef-tackles next they run:
The shivering sails descend; and now they square
The yards, while ready sailors mount in air.
* * * * *
“Deep on her side the reeling vessel lies—
‘Brail up the mizzen, quick!’ the master cries,
’Man the clue-garnets! let the main-sheet fly!’
The boisterous squall still presses from on high,
And swift and fatal as the lightning’s course
Thro’ the torn main-sail bursts with thundering force.”