Another nod from the carpenter showed that he heard and appreciated the command, he and the group with him by great exertions tricing up the piece of fearnought into the fore-shrouds on the side indicated, spreading the cloth out and lashing it outside the rigging.
“Now, men,” cried Captain Snaggs, “some o’ ye aft hyar! Look sharp an’ man the cro’jack braces.”
“Dat vas goot,” I heard Mr Jan Steenbock say behind me, his voice coming right into my ear; “dat vas ze very tings!”
The skipper heard him, too.
“I guess ye’re worth yer salt, an’ knows what’s what!” he screamed back, with his face shoved into that of the second-mate, so that he should catch the words. “Stand by to cast off the clewlines agen, an’ slack out the weather sheet, if we wants it!”
“Aye, aye!” roared Jan Steenbock, in answer, jumping to the belaying pins, to cast off the ropes as ordered. “I vas dere!”
And so was I, too, following his example, ready to bear a hand when the necessity arose.
“Send another hand or two hyar aft, to the wheel!” now yelled out the captain, on seeing that Tom Bullover had marshalled the watch on the deck below at the crossjack braces, ready to ease off on the weather side, and haul in gradually to leeward—so that the yard should not be jerked round suddenly, and risk carrying away the mizzen-top mast and all its hamper with the shock; and, finally, with a motion of his arm, which those at the wheel readily understood, he ordered the helm to be put down.
It was a critical moment.
The ship seemed a trifle stubborn, and would not obey the rudder, lying sluggishly in the trough of the sea for a while, but the tail end of a big wave then catching her on the quarter, she slewed round a bit; and, the crossjack yard being braced up sharply in the nick of time, she swung with her head to the wind, breasting the billows full butt the next instant, instead of drifting on at their will as before.