"Lay out and stow the jib!" added the officer. "Mind your eye there! The squall is upon us!"
The roar of the squall—heard at first miles away—swept along over the ocean, carrying a tempest of foam and spray before it, and came down upon the Josephine. Though she carried no sail, the force of the wind was enough to heel her down, while the spray leaped over her decks in the furious blast. The scene was grand and sublime. The thunders roared; the lightnings seemed to hiss in their fury, as they darted through the moist atmosphere; and the wind, hardly less than a hurricane, howled in unison with the booming thunderbolts.
At first, on the long swells of the ocean, which a moment before had been as smooth and glassy as a mirror, thousands of little white-capped waves gathered, throwing up volumes of fine spray, which was borne away by the tempest; so that the air was laden with moisture. Though the squall came heavy in the beginning, it did not attain its full power for several minutes. The effect even of the onslaught of the tempest was tremendous, and officers and crew clung to the rigging and the wood-work of the vessel, fearful that the savage blast would take them bodily from their feet, and bear them away into the angry ocean.
"Down with the helm!" roared Captain Kendall to the quartermaster, who, with four of the strongest seamen, had been stationed at the wheel.
The action of the fierce wind upon the vessel's side was powerful enough to give her steerage-way without any sail, and her head came up to the gale, so that she took the blast on her port bow. Thus far, the effect upon the ocean did not correspond with the violence of the tempest; for even the severest blow does not immediately create a heavy sea. But, if the tempest continued even for a few minutes, this result was sure to follow. There is no especial peril in a squall, if the seaman has had time to take in sail, unless in a heavy sea; but it does not take long for a hurricane, in the open ocean, to stir up the water to its maddest fury.
Professor Hamblin was walking up and down in the waist,—a very pretty type of the squall itself,—when the initial stroke of the tempest came upon the Josephine. His "stove-pipe" hat, as non-nautical as anything could be, which he persisted in wearing, was tipped from his head, and borne over the rail into the sea. This accident did not improve his temper, and he was on the point of asking the captain to send a boat to pick up his lost tile, when the full force of the squall began to be expended upon the vessel. He found himself unable to stand up; and he reeled to the mainmast, where Professor Stoute was already moored to the fife-rail.
"Wouldn't you like the boat now, Mr. Hamblin?" chuckled the jolly professor, hardly able to speak without having his words blown down his throat.
"I've lost my hat," growled the learned gentleman, almost choked with ill-nature within, and the ill-wind without.
"Ask the captain to send a boat for it," laughed Mr. Stoute. "There he stands! Upon my word, he is a wonder to me! He handles the vessel like an old admiral who has been imbedded in salt for forty years!"
"Any boy could do it!" snarled the irate professor.