“She wants some after sail to steady her,” roared the captain bending over the poop rail, although he held on tightly enough to it the while, and calling out to Mr Mackay, who remained with me just below him on the main-deck. “We must try and get some sort of rag up.”
Mr Mackay made a motion up at the fragments of the main trysail, which, it may be remembered, had been carried away by the first blast of the typhoon.
“Aye,” roared back “Old Jock,” understanding him, and knowing that if the first mate had spoken he couldn’t have heard a word he said, from the fact of the wind blowing forward. “I know it’s gone, but try a staysail.”
“Bedad, he bates Bannagher!” said Tim Rooney, who had returned aft and joined Mr Mackay and I under the break of the poop, where we were sheltered more from the force of the gale. “I niver did say sich a chap for carryin’ on, fair weather an’ foul, loike ‘Ould Jock Sayins an’ Mayins.’ Sure, he wants to be there afore himsilf!”
“We must rig up a storm staysail, I suppose,” replied Mr Mackay, smiling at the other’s remark. “Try one on the mizzen staysail—the smallest you’ve got. Ask Adams, he’ll soon find one; and, mind you, send it up ‘wift’ fashion, so as to lessen the risk of its getting blown away, bosun.”
“Aye, aye, sorr,” said Tim, opening his eyes at this expedient of hoisting a sail like a pilot’s signal, and starting to work his way forward again along the weather side of the deck. “Begorra, you’re the boy, sure, Misther Mackay, for sayin’ through a stone hidge as well as most folk!”
But the dodge succeeded all the same, and likewise had the advantage of steadying the vessel, which did not roll nearly so much when the after sail was hoisted, with the sheet hauled in to leeward; although, the Silver Queen bent over when she felt it, as if running on a bowline, notwithstanding that the wind was almost dead aft and she spurring on before it.
As the night came on it darkened more, the moon disappearing altogether and the sky becoming completely covered with black angry clouds; while heavy showers of cold rain pelted down on us at intervals from midnight till “four bells” in the middle watch.
Then the rain ceased and the heavens cleared a bit, a few stars peeping out; and the phosphorescent light from the sea enabled us to have a good view of the boiling waves around us, still heaving and tossing as far as the eye could reach, although the wind was perceptibly lessening.
An hour later its force had fallen to that of a strong breeze, and the captain had the topsails and mizzen-topgallant set, carrying on still full pitch to the north-east, notwithstanding that just before dawn it became pitch dark again and we couldn’t see a cable’s length ahead.