The weather main-chains were wrenched like threads, with all their rigging, from the sides of the vessel; and the main mast, bending like a cane, broke off with a loud crash close to the deck.
It was an awful moment.
A wild cry arose from the sailors, but it was drowned in the roar of the waters and the thunder of the gale.
The lightning flashed and leaped about like phantasmagoric demons, as if mocking the sailors in their frantic dread.
"Cut away the foremast—look lively, men!"
Lieutenant Tempest had been prepared for this order, and with an ax severed the distended shrouds, which flew wildly in the air, lashing the sea as they fell.
The remaining straps parted with sharp reports before the ax descended, and the unsustained mast, after a few vigorous blows by the daring hand of the young officer, snapped off a few feet from the deck.
A large wave lifted it like a straw and bore it away to leeward.
The Lively Bee—a wreck—drifted about on the billows.
Captain Vernon almost sobbed as he thought of her.