This was indeed true; although reefed, the maintopsail had gone.
I could not say how many ribbons it was rent into, but the noise those ribbons made was indescribable. It was like the rattling of platoon-firing when a regiment of soldiers is being drilled.
"I told the skipper the glass was going down like tea and scandal, and he only laughed at me. If a man refuses to obey the dictates of science, well, he deserves to lose his ship—that's all I've got to say."
"You don't think we're going to be shipwrecked, do you, sir?"
"Laddie, how can I tell? If the wind changes, and we don't get up steam in time, our ribs may be dang in on the rocks before mornin'. But don't be afraid. I daresay it will all come right. I'm going on deck to see how her neb is pointing. Keep quiet, and think about your mammy."
And away the doctor went, steadying himself by bulkheads or anything he could lay hold on.
It was now getting very dusk indeed, but so quickly had the men aloft done their duty, that the ship was already snug, and all hands had come below. The captain, Commander Gillespie, was himself on the quarter-deck. He was comparatively a young man, probably not thirty, or about three years the surgeon's senior. He was a smart enough officer, but he had good friends in England in high quarters, and this had got him a separate command; so he walked his own planks, lord of all he saw.
The surgeon and he were already very friendly, only the captain did not put much faith in the weather prognostications advanced by the worthy Scotch medico.
"I told you what was coming, sir," said Dr. Reikie.
"Um—yes—well, I think you did mention something about the glass. But we're all right."