Steph. Aft, aft, and loose the mizen!
Trinc. Get the mizen-tack aboard. Haul aft mizen-sheet.
Enter Mustacho.
Must. Loose the main-top sail!
Steph. Let him alone, there's too much wind.
Trinc. Loose fore-sail! haul aft both sheets! trim her right before the wind. Aft! aft! lads, and hale up the mizen here.
Must. A mackrel-gale, master.
Steph. within. Port hard, port! the wind veers forward, bring the tack aboard-port is. Starboard, starboard, a little steady; now steady, keep her thus, no nearer you cannot come, 'till the sails are loose.
Vent. Some hands down: The guns are loose.
[Exit Must.