“Very good, quarter-master,” said the commander; “you can stop pumping.”
The chaps who had gone off in the cutter had been equally spry with their job, bending on a stout hemp hawser through the ring of the kedge anchor, which they dropped some half a cable’s length from the brig, bringing back the other end aboard, where it was put round the capstan on the forecastle.
This was at once manned, there being no want of volunteers, every one of us wanting to have a turn at the capstan bars, even before Mr Gadgett, the gunner, who was on duty forward, gave the word.
But it was a case of ‘yo heave’ and ‘paul’ in vain, the hemp cable coming home as taut as possible, and then surging off the capstan without moving the poor little Martin a hair’s-breadth from her sandy bed.
“We must get out the stream anchor, Mr Gadgett,” sang out the commander. “Look alive there and rig out the davits, and send some hands into the cutter to stow the anchor properly when we lower it down!”
This was done, the heavy stream anchor, which was always kept ready on the forecastle in case of any such emergency, being eased down by means of its shank painter and the fish tackle until it rested comfortably across the sternsheets of the boat; while another stout hawser accompanying it, was coiled round the whole interior of the boat on top of the thwarts.
The cutter then pulled off to about the same distance at which the kedge had been dropped, though more on the quarter of the brig than dead aft; and, the end of the second hawser being brought aboard like the first, all hands set to work with a cheery song, as we had no drum and fife band with us in the brig—for, though not strictly according to naval discipline, the commander permitted the licence so as to make the fellows move round all the smarter.
“Yo—ho, my lads!” bawled out old Jellybelly, quite in his element, I believe, as he liked to hear his own voice. “Round she comes! Heave and paul with a yo—heave—ho!”
“By jingo, she’s moving!” Mr Gadgett quivered out, more excited than I had ever seen the grey-haired gunner before. “Another turn or two, my lads, and she’ll be afloat!”
His excitement communicated itself to the commander aft, who was looking over the stern and anxiously watching the water, to see if our rudder, which was kept amidships, made any ripple on the surface; though, wide awake, our officer was keeping a keen eye, too, on the manilla hawser attached to the stream anchor, which was in such a ticklish state of tension from the strain that it was singing out like a fiddle-string.