Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea

by George Manville Fenn

Then leaving one end hanging, I fastened the lower one to the first rope I could feel, so that it should not fall to the deck. Then I began to haul in the uncut portion, and found it came easily enough, but making every now and then a faint creaking noise as the wheel in the truck spun round.

I turned cold at this, for though it was very high up, I was afraid the sound would take the attention of the men on deck.

But they paid no heed, and I hauled away till I felt sure that I must have at least forty or fifty yards of the line—quite as much as I wanted; and then I used the knife again, and after replacing it, wound the line into a skein from elbow to hand, ending by hanging it round my neck with the ends twisted in so that they could not get loose.

So far, so good, but I had not fastened the other end of the line to save it from falling, and this I now did.

The next proceeding was, I knew, perilous, but I was desperate, and I did not hesitate. It was my only chance, I knew, and I must do it. There was the danger of being heard, and that of making a slip and going overboard. But I was young, strong, and active, and giving myself no time to think, I felt in the darkness for the crutch at the thick end of the gaff or yard which embraced the mizzen-mast below the top—the yard, that is, which spread the top of the mizzen-spanker—lowered myself down till I stood upon it, and then taking well hold with hands and knees, I began to creep softly up and along that diagonally stretched yard higher and higher till I felt that I must be over the sea.

But in my desperation I did not hesitate. I climbed on, and I know it was not easy; still I climbed on up that round perilous slope, feeling that if the sea had been rough I should have certainly been jerked off. And try hard as I would, I could not help making a little noise, which I felt sure Bob Hampton must hear, for there he was below me leaning over the wheel, and his head visible in the binnacle-light.

But he did not hear, and I crept on and upward on my chest, nipping the yard well with my knees, and clinging with my hands. It was hard and awkward work, for I had to pass the blocks and ropes which hoisted it up, and it swung inboard and out as the wind pressed upon the great bellying canvas, curving down below me to the great boom which ran out and over the steersman’s head some feet above the stern-rail.

Still I climbed on and over the cords which laced the rail to the yard, and at last clung there, holding on for dear life, having reached the end with my hands, and grasping the top corner of the great sail edged with stout rope.

“Now Bob Hampton will hear me,” I thought, and I stopped to think what I should do next. But not for long. Nipping the yard well with my knees, I passed the hank of line over my head, unfastened one end, and tied it securely round the top of the yard before letting the coils slide down inside the hollow curve of the sail, knowing that they would come apart as they glided down the stiff strong canvas. This done, I hesitated for a few moments before trusting myself to descend; but drawing a long breath at last, I took a good grip of the line with my left hand, of the rope-edge of the sail with the other, and began to slide down, keeping my chest as near as I could to the canvas.

This was terrible at first, for the upper part of the sail was a long way on toward being perpendicular, and I had to cling tightly to save myself from coming down with a run; but every foot after the first ten grew easier, so that I lay at last well on the great curve, and glided down almost in silence, only having to grip rope and line hard enough to keep a little check upon my descent. I followed the edge of the sail right away out over the sea, to where it was secured to the large horizontal projecting boom, and here my feet rested as I held on and looked inboard from where I insecurely stood, faintly making out the figure of Bob Hampton, who was in perfect ignorance of my descent, though how it was he did not hear the rustling I cannot make out, unless he was asleep—though he never would own to it in after days.