“Man overboard!”
And, in an instant, every heart palpitated with one thought, every ear was on the qui vive, every eye turned, intently watching the captain as he gave the necessary orders for bringing the ship up to the wind—as it was far too squally and risky work for her spars and top-hamper to wear her, before she could pay off on the other tack—and retrace her course in her own wake to pick up the two boys, who were now out of sight.
“Stand by the lee braces, and be ready to slacken off on the weather-side! ’Bout ship! Up with the helm! Mainsail haul!” were some of the orders rapidly given and as rapidly attended to.
With a will, the great main-yard swung round to starboard, the Sea Rover paying off handsomely. And, in another moment, under her reefed topsails and topgallantsails, with her courses dropped, and her yards sharply braced up, she was going back on her track at even greater speed than she had been previously travelling towards Australia, the wind having shifted to the southwards and eastwards after the last squall, and being now well on her beam, which was the clipper’s best sailing point.
There was a lookout on the fore-topmast crosstrees; but almost every one was looking out in the direction where some trace of David and Jonathan might be discovered. And the minutes seemed lengthened into hours as they anxiously peered into the mass of slatey-brown water in front and around topped with yeasty foam. But the sky was overcast with storm-clouds and the darkening of approaching night, and their horizon was now limited so that they could not see very far in advance of the Sea Rover’s bows—not more than a mile at most.
Every voice was hushed on board the ship now, and only the humming of the wind and the swish of the water could be heard as she dived every now and then over her catheads into the waves, that fell in a cataract of spray on her forecastle and washed into her waist, while she dashed onward, gathering speed with every yard of progress that she made.
“Lookout, ahoy, there!” shouted out the captain to the man on the fore crosstrees. “Do you see anything of them yet?”
“Not a speck in sight,” was the answer; and still the Sea Rover clove through the water on what they guessed to have been their former course, and the sky and the sea grew darker and darker and seemed to mingle together, gradually diminishing their area of vision.
“We must have passed the spot by this time,” said the captain presently to the chief officer, when the ship had gone some two miles after coming about. “Send another lookout into the main-top; and you, Dawkins,” addressing one of the hands standing near, “sky up here in the mizzen-rigging and see if you can see anything. Look well round to leeward as well as ahead, for we may have overrun them.”
“Ay, ay,” said the man as he scrambled up the shrouds, and quickly made his way, not merely into mizzen-top, but on the topgallant-yard, where he sat astride and scanned the horizon to his right and left, to windward and leeward of the vessel’s wake.