“All right, we’ll see,” said Mr Marline. “But, don’t you think, sir, we may be running into the worst part of the gale?”
“No, Marline, no; I don’t believe that,” replied the other. “You’ll see that it will blow itself out presently and calm down to a steady breeze, when we’ll be able to haul our wind, making that fair for us.”
“Don’t you notice, though, captain,” urged the mate, “that those clouds also sheer off in a contrary direction, showing that the upper currents of air are not affected by this wind at all—a proof that it is a sort of cyclone or hurricane?”
“And if so,” retorted Captain Miles, “it began in the south-east, where it is still blowing from; so, when it veers, it will be to the south and west, making a fair wind for us, as I said before.”
“Very good; you know best, sir,” said Mr Marline in a way that showed he was still unconvinced.
But the captain had not done with his reasons yet.
“Just consider, Marline,” he continued, “we couldn’t very well wear the ship now with this thundering wind and following sea, or try and heave her to—the only thing left for us to do if we don’t scud. Indeed, I think we must get some more sail on her as it is; for those rollers are getting too heavy and gaining on us, and, if we don’t keep ahead of them, why, they’ll poop us, that’s all!”
“Do you think the masts will stand it, sir?” queried the first mate, glancing aloft, where the spars were bent like whips and the rigging as taut as fiddle-strings.
“Stand it? Of course they will,” replied the captain. “I’ll back them to stand anything, if the stays only hold.”
“And I’ll guarantee that they will not carry away,” retorted Mr Marline, who had specially seen to the setting up of the rigging and was confident of the job being well done, being rather proud of his handiwork.