Up to then we had experienced very fair weather, being able to carry all our upper sail and stun’sails as well; but, all at once, without any warning, save that the heavens suddenly darkened overhead, obscuring the sun, and the barometer began to fall, as I heard the navigating officer say to the commodore, whom he passed on his way on deck from the wardroom below, a storm broke over us!
The next moment, the whistles of the boatswain’s mates were ringing through the ship, with the customary hoarse hail down the hatchways—
“Watch, shorten sail!”
Then, as we tumbled up to our stations, it became a case of let go and clew up.
“Topmen, aloft!” sang out the commodore from the break of the poop, in sharp, piercing accents that rose above the whistle of the wind through the rigging and the dull roar of the sea, which had assumed now a leaden appearance, instead of the bright blue which it boasted the moment before, while its surface began to work into short choppy waves that tossed their crests like horses champing the bit. “Take in the to’gallants and royals!”
Up we all raced aloft; but no sooner had these sails been furled and we reached the deck than the commodore was at us again.
“Watch, reef tops’ls!” he shouted even louder than before. “Away aloft—take in one reef!”
Mick and I scrambled up, almost out of breath, into the mizzen-top; which we hardly reached before we heard the commodore give the next order necessary to enable us to take in the reef—
“Weather tops’l braces, round in! Lower the tops’ls!”
Next followed our own especial order—