“Lay out! Loose sails!”
The hands jumped upon the foot-ropes, and worked themselves out to their places on the yards, where they loosed the sails, overhauled the rigging, and made everything ready for the final evolution. The midshipman in the tops reported to the officers on deck when the preparations were completed, and the lieutenants on deck, in their turn, reported to the first lieutenant.
“Let fall!” said the executive officer; and all, as one, the sails dropped from the yards.
The precision of the movement called forth a demonstration of applause from the visitors. Mr. Clyde Blacklock stood with his mouth open, looking up at the students on the yards, but occasionally glancing at the “swellish” first lieutenant, who seemed to be the master-spirit of the occasion, because he spoke in a loud voice, while the captain, who really controlled the evolutions, could hardly be heard, except by the executive officer, to whom alone his order was given.
“Lay in! Lay down from aloft!” said the first lieutenant; and in a moment more all hands were on deck again.
“Do you ever man the yards, sir?” asked a gentleman of the principal.
“Occasionally, sir—not often. You are aware that it requires some preparation, for we are obliged to extend life-lines over the yards,” replied Mr. Lowington. “We are not in condition to do it now. If we should happen to be visited by the king at Copenhagen or Stockholm, and had previous notice, we should certainly do it.”
The crew were then required to go through the manœuvre of furling sails, which was performed with the same precision as the first evolution, and to the great satisfaction of the guests, who were then invited to visit the cabins and steerage of the ship.
“Mother, I like this thing,” said Mr. Clyde Blacklock.
“It’s all very, very fine, Clyde,” replied the tender mother.