“Some time since a Jack-tar, seated in a wherry, was rowed up the river Thames, against wind and tide. He had just returned from India; and, sailor-like, was industriously disposed to get rid of his spare cash. He had a pipe in his mouth, and the clouds of smoke poured forth showed that the smoker was in earnest; while with his right hand he flourished a flexible bamboo. Behind him was a large shaggy Newfoundland dog, who appeared as well pleased as Jack himself. Before him sat a musician, with a huge drum and pandean pipes, playing away with all his power.
“As Jack passed the vessels in the river, and the wharfs, and the drinking-rooms overlooking the water, he was cheered continually. When he arrived at St. Katherine’s Docks he quitted the wherry, and hopped along on his real leg, for his other was a wooden one, as nimbly as a kangaroo, while the spectators, assembled to witness his landing, greeted him with a cheer. Jack and the Newfoundlander were soon stowed in a coach; the musician occupied the roof, striking up ‘Rule Britannia!’ and the crowd loudly cheered as Jack drove off, waving his hat good-humouredly from the coach window. What became of Jack afterwards is not known; but it is easy to imagine, that at the end of a few days’ cruise he would not have a single shot in his locker.”
“Then he would be off to sea again?”
“No doubt he would. Whether at sea or on land, seamen seldom keep out of squalls long together.”
“What is the real meaning of a squall?”
“A squall is a violent gust of wind, that comes on a ship suddenly, and sometimes does a great deal of mischief in a very little time. There are parts of the world where you are more liable to them than in others. The first time that I was in a squall in the Mediterranean it put the surprise upon me. There was a small black cloud to windward in the south, but I should have thought little of it, had not a bluff old tar pointed to it and said, ‘There’s a capful, my hearty.’ What he said was true enough, and we had it in quick time too. The course of the ship was altered, to scud before what was coming, and the hands went aloft to take in sail. By this time the cloud had spread and neared us, and all at once, without warning, the squall came. The sheets and ropes cracked and snapped in the wind, the fore-sail was torn to ribands, the rain fell like a torrent, and away went the ship, running almost gunwale down in the water. But if the squall came without notice, it quitted us without notice, for in half an hour the sky was clear, the wind down, and the ship all in order, making her way through the waves.”
“When a squall comes on, sailors should get out their anchors, and the strongest cables they have, to keep the ship steady.”
“The cables must be very long, boys, to enable them to anchor in the middle of the Mediterranean. Perhaps you have never read the account given by Captain Hall, of attempting to anchor in deep water with a chain cable!”
“No, never! Please to tell us all about it.”
“I have it at hand here, and will read it to you. He says, ‘The chain cable is difficult of management in deep water; that is to say, when the soundings are more than twenty or twenty-five fathoms. Nothing is so easy as getting the anchor to the bottom in such cases; it is the facilis descensus with a vengeance! But when the anchor is to be pulled up again, then comes the tug. I once let go my anchor, with a chain cable bent to it, in forty-five fathoms, without having calculated on the probable effects of the momentum. Though the cable was bitted, all the stoppers snapped like packthread; and the anchor, not content with shooting to the bottom with an accelerated velocity, drew after it more than a hundred fathoms of chain, in such fearful style that we thought the poor ship must have been shaken to pieces. The noise was like that of rattling thunder, and so loud that it was impossible to hear a word; indeed it was even difficult to speak, from the excessive tremour caused by the rapid and violent passage of the links, as the chain leaped, or rather flew up the hatchway, flashing round the bits, and giving out sparks like a fire-work. Finally, it tore its way out at the hawse-hole, till the whole cable had probably piled itself on the anchor in a pyramid of iron at the bottom of the sea. The inner end of the cable had, of course, been securely shackled round the heel of the main-mast, but the jerk with which it was brought up made the ship shake from end to end as if she had bumped on a rock; and every one fully expected to see the links fly in pieces about the deck, like chain-shot fired from a cannon. It cost not many seconds of time for the cable to run out, but it occupied several hours of hard labour to heave it in again. The ordinary power of the capstan, full manned, scarcely stirred it; and at the last, when to the weight of chain hanging from the bows there came to be added that of the anchor, it was necessary to apply purchase upon purchase in order to drag the ponderous mass once more to the bows.’”