Jan Steenbock at once let go the clewlines; and the sheets of the mizzen-topsail, which had already been close-reefed, being hauled home, and the piece of fearnought in the fore-rigging acting as well as a sail there would have done, the vessel was brought to lay-to at last, riding safely enough, considering the heavy sea that was running, and thus showing herself a staunch boat under very trying circumstances.
“We’ve seen the worst of it now,” shouted the skipper, trying to rub his hands together, in token of his satisfaction, but having to leave off and grasp the poop rail to steady himself again from the ship pitching so much, as she met the big waves tumbling in on her bows, and rose to them buoyantly. “The gale is moderating so the watch ken pipe down, I guess, an’ all hands splice the mainbrace!”
The men couldn’t hear him clearly, but the gesture which he made, of lifting his fist to his mouth, was sufficiently explanatory to all; and, when he presently dived down the companion and appeared at the cabin door under the break of the poop, with the steward behind him, holding a bottle of rum in one hand and a pannikin in the other, the men who had so gallantly exerted themselves were to be seen standing by, ready to receive the customary grog always served out on each occasions, fresh hands being sent up to relieve those at the wheel, so that these should not lose the advantage of the skipper’s generosity—which was somewhat unexpected from one of his temper!
Later on, there was a glorious sunset, the black clouds all clearing away, and the heavens glowing with red and gold, as the orb of day sank below the horizon.
This showed that we were going to have the chance of a finer spell than we had been having; and, the wind soon afterwards shifting to the westward, the foretop-mast-staysail was hoisted, followed shortly by the reefed-foresail and main-trysail, the skipper setting all the fore and aft sail he could to make up for the loss of our topsails, which, it may be remembered, were blown away.
The ship was then brought round on the starboard tack, and put on her proper course again, for us to make another attempt to weather Cape Horn.
By the time all this was done it was quite dark, and getting on close to ‘six bells’ in the second dog-watch, the sun sinking to rest early in those latitudes; so, as none of the men had got their tea yet, or thought of it, for that matter, although they’d had nothing since their dinner at midday, Hiram Bangs, calling me to follow him, started for the galley, to see about the coppers.
We found, however, that the seas we had taken aboard had washed the fire out and made a regular wreck of the place, everything being turned topsy-turvy and mixed up into a sort of “hurrah’s nest.”
Indeed, the only wonder was, that the galley itself had not been carried incontinently over the side, when the ship had canted over on her beam-ends; and, it would have been, no doubt, but for its being so securely lashed down to the ringbolts in the deck—a precaution which had saved it when everything else had been swept to leeward.
At all events, there it was still, but in a pretty pickle; and Hiram and I had a hard job to light up the fire again under the coppers, all the wood and coal that had not been fetched away by the sea being, of course, wet and soddened by the water.