[CHAPTER XVII--A SURPRISE FOR CAPTAIN PROUT]
Captain Abraham Prout, master and part owner of the topsail schooner Myrtle, of 120 tons burthen, came on deck on hearing the mate give the order "All hands shorten sail!"
It was six o'clock in the morning, still dark and very cold, for the Myrtle was on the fortieth parallel of the Southern Hemisphere, and the month being June it was mid-winter. There were flakes of snow flying about. For the last three days and nights it had either been sleeting, raining, or snowing, or else all three together; but the wind was fair, and there was every prospect of the schooner making a quick passage from Albany to Hobart.
"There's something behind this muck, Abe," remarked the mate, who, on the strength of being the "Old Man's" brother-in-law, was on familiar terms with Captain Prout. "The old hooker won't carry her topsails with the breeze a-freshenin'. Best be on the safe side, says I."
"Quite right, Tom," agreed the skipper. "New topmasts cost a mort sight o' money in these hard times. Anything to report?"
"Nothin'," replied the mate, laconically.
He shook the frozen sleet from the rim of his sou'wester and turned to inform one of the crew, in polite language of the sea, that "he'd better get a move on an' not stand there a-hanging on to the slack."
"There's some tea a-goin', Tom," announced Captain Prout. "Nip below an' get a mug to warm you up a bit."
The mate fell in with the suggestion with alacrity. The skipper, having seen the hands complete their task of "gettin' the tops'ls off her," went aft to where the half-frozen helmsman was almost mechanically toying with the wheel.
Through sheer force of habit Captain Prout peered into the feebly illuminated compass-bowl. Even as he did so, there was a tremendous crash.