This implied that the heavy mass of metal, of some four tons weight, by which we had been moored, was now off the ground, a fact that increased the strain on the cable and messenger, taking a longer and a stronger pull out of those working the capstan, and making the nippers, too, pass a trifle less briskly than before.
“Anchor’s in sight, sir, and a clear anchor, too!” was the next cry from the forecastle that went from hand to hand aft, causing ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me’ to come out stronger than previously and the tramping feet to hasten their measured tread; and, in another minute or so, the ring of the anchor was chock up to the hawse pipe at the bows, and the boatswain piped “Belay!”
“Hands make sail!” next came from the commander aft, the midshipmen stationed in the tops jumping into the rigging and scrambling up the ratlines before he could shout “Way aloft!”
In an instant, up started the topmen in pursuit, as it seemed, of the middies in a sort of ‘follow my leader’ chase; and ere the vibration of the commander’s voice had ceased to tremble in the air, the active fellows were spread out along the footropes of the yards, loosing the lanyards of the gaskets and casting them off, while the deck-men let go the buntlines and clewlines and other running gear.
“All ready for letting fall, sir,” the middy stationed in the foretop was the first to sing out. This was Dick Popplethorne, a smart lad, who prompted the topmen under his charge to emulate his ready example, so as to get ahead of the others. Larkyns at the maintop was a good second, while Adams at the mizzen was the last; the officer of the watch, on hearing his hail, reporting “All ready!”
“Let fall and sheet home!” thereupon shouted out Commander Nesbitt, with the captain standing behind, as it were, to “back him up,” following this order with another warning hail—“Topsail halliards!”
Our topsails and courses were at once spread; and, then, the men on deck stood by the halliards, hoisting the yards up as soon as the word of command reached them from the commander with his next breath “Hoist away!”
The wind was blowing steadily from the northward and westward as the yards were braced up, and the Candahar payed off handsomely on the port tack with the tide, making for the Warner Lightship to the eastwards; and, as we trimmed sails and bore away from our whilom anchorage in the roadstead, the breeze brought out to us the silvery chimes of the bells of old Saint Thomas’, ringing the good people to church while we stood out to sea.
There was a clear blue sky overhead and the bright sun mellowed the frosty feel of the air, lighting up the blue water around us, as we ploughed our way through the dancing wavelets; our noble ship curvetting and prancing along, similar to some gallant charger tossing its head and showing off its paces, throwing up the spray over her forecastle when she dipped deeper than usual and leaving a long wake behind her, like a lady’s fan, all sprinkled over with pearls, stretching back to Spithead, now far away astern.