The weather throughout the voyage, up to now, had treated the vessel fairly enough, so no complaint could be made on that score; but, no sooner had they arrived at the equator, than the wind suddenly shifted round to the west and south-west, accompanied by a violent squall that would have settled the Pilot’s Bride, if Captain Brown had not fortunately anticipated it and prepared in time.
The ship was nearing Pernambuco, off the South American coast, on a short “leg,” before taking the long one that would fetch down towards Tristan d’Acunha, proceeding in the ordinary track of vessels going round the Cape of Good Hope; when, suddenly, towards evening, it fell nearly calm and sheet lightning was noticed towards the eastward, where a dense bank of dark clouds had mounted up, obscuring the sky.
This was enough for Captain Brown, who had gone through a similar experience before.
“All hands take in sail!” came his order, without a moment’s delay.
The men sprang aloft immediately and furled the royals and top-gallant-sails; while others below took in the flying jib and hauled up the mainsail and trysail—the hands wondering all the time what on earth the skipper was at, taking in all the spread of the vessel’s canvas, when there wasn’t a breath of air blowing!
However, the “old man,” as he was generally called by the crew, knew better than they; and so, with the ship’s yards stripped and squared, he awaited what science and forethought had taught him to expect.
Science and forethought had not caused him to make these preparations in vain!
The blackness in the south-east extended round the horizon to the west, and, presently, a thick mist came rolling up from that quarter, enveloping the vessel in its folds and covering the stars in front like a curtain, although those lesser lights of the night shone out brightly in other parts of the sky.
Then, all at once, the squall burst with a furious blast that made the ship heel over almost on her beam ends, the wind being followed by a shower of rain and hail that seemed as if it would batter in the decks.
“Let go the halliards!” sang out Captain Brown; and, his order being promptly attended to, the vessel was not taken aback—otherwise every spar would have snapped away, or else she would have gone down stern foremost.