“Well, put two of your best men at the helm, captain, and give them the necessary orders. I know what ought to be done, but I do not know enough of your language to make sure that I shall not make a mistake. Man the braces, all hands,” he shouted. “Now, obey the captain’s orders as if they were mine.”
The manœuvre was safely executed, and the brig brought before the wind. She felt the relief at once, and sped rapidly before the storm on an even keel.
“How far will this gale extend beyond the coast?”
“There is no saying, señor. An ordinary gale will seldom be felt above a hundred or a hundred and fifty miles; but a big one, as this will I think be, may take us a thousand miles before we can get on our course again.”
“Are there any dangers to be feared?”
“If we go far enough we may get among some islands; but on the course that we are steering we shall run some hundreds of miles before we reach them.”
“You have got a chart, I suppose?”
“I have a chart of the coast, señor, but nothing beyond. We only do a coasting trade.”
“Then the look-out is a bad one if the wind holds like this,” Stephen said. “However, there is nothing to do now.”
The gale continued to increase in violence, and in a couple of hours Stephen ordered the main topsail to be lowered on to the cap and there secured. It was a dangerous service, and was undertaken by the Chilians, who are far more handy sailors than the Peruvians. Stephen felt grateful when the last of them stepped on to the deck again. Small as was the amount of sail that was now spread, the brig flew before the wind with alarming rapidity, the sea seeming to stand up on each side of her. The foremast bent so much under the pressure that Stephen had to order preventer-stays to be rove. These were with great difficulty and risk fastened above the hounds and taken well aft, where they were tightened by tackles, and the strain on the mast considerably relieved.