“Luff, you beggar, luff!” he added, to the steersman, who, with both hands on the wheel, was exerting all his strength to keep the vessel’s head up.
“She can’t do it, sir,” replied the sailor, hoarsely. “It’s all I can manage to prevent her falling off now.”
“She must do it!” was the captain’s answer. “Watch, ahoy! Brace round those topsail-yards a bit more! Cheerily, men, with a will!”
“Yo-ho-heave-oh-e! Yo-ho-heave!” rang out the chorussed cry of the crew pulling together at the braces, until the topsails lay like boards almost fore and aft the ship. And yet her head could not be induced to veer a fraction towards the desired point, but rather fell off if anything.
“Guess we shall have to put more sail on her,” said Seth Allport, mate of the Susan Jane, singing out from amidship, where he was on duty. “Guess so, Cap’en, if you want to fetch him.”
“It’s risky work, Seth,” rejoined the skipper, “for she’s now got as much on her as she can carry. But I s’pose it must be done if we’re to pick up that poor fellow. Here, boys,” he cried out suddenly to the crew, “we must shake a reef out of the mainsail. Look smart, will ye!”
The effect of this sail was soon apparent. No sooner had the folds of canvas expanded to the wind than the Susan Jane heeled over with a lurch as if she were going to capsize, bringing her bow so much round that her jib shivered, causing several ominous creaks and cracks aloft from the quivering topmasts.
“She’ll do it now, sir,” said the mate, who had come aft, and with another of the crew lent a hand to assist the steersman, who found the wheel too much for him now unaided, with the additional sail there was on the ship.
“Steady! How’s the poor chap bearing now?” asked the skipper, hailing the lookout once more, as he lost sight of the wreckage by the vessel’s change of position and the lifting of the bow so much out of the water forward as she rose on the sea.
“Right ahead. Just a trifle to leeward, boss.”