“Looks like a change coming, I think,” observed Mr Quadrant, the master, glancing at the sunset more with the eye of a meteorologist than that of an artist. “Those northerly winds never last long in the Channel, especially at this time of year.”
“The evening’s closing in, too,” said the “first luff,” screwing his eyeglass more tightly into the corner of his eye and bending his lanky body over the poop-rail to see if everything was all right on the deck below, after taking a hurried squint aloft. “I shall shorten sail at once. Bosun’s mate!”
You should have heard him roar out this hail. Why, it made me jump off my feet as if a cannon had been fired, with a full charge, close to my head!
“Ay, ay, sir,” replied the boatswain’s mate, coming under the break of the poop, so as to be nearer at hand; but there was certainly no necessity for his approaching in order to hear better, for the lieutenant’s voice would have been audible a mile off, “I’m here, sir.”
“Pipe the watch to shorten sail!”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
There was no need, though, of pipe or shout from the worthy petty officer addressed, notwithstanding that the lusty seaman could have piped and shouted with the best, should duty demand it of him; for, the lieutenant’s order had already reached the ears of every man of the watch, and all were at their several stations, ready for the next command.
This was not long-delayed.
“Topmen aloft! In royals and to’gallant stu’ns’ls!” he bellowed, in a tone that put that of poor Mr Bitpin completely into the shade; his voice sounding as if the wild bull which that gentleman had apparently imitated, according to the facetious Larkyns, had since been under the instruction of Signor Lablache or some other distinguished bass singer and had learnt to mellow his roar into a deeper tone. No sooner, too, had the hands jumped into the rigging and the studdingsail halliards and tacks been cast off by the watch on deck and the downhauls and sheets manned, than the “first luff,” pitching his voice to yet a higher key, sang out in rapid sequence, “Topmast stu’ns’l downhaul—haul taut—clew up—all down!”
“Bosun’s mate,” he then cried, “turn the hands up!”