The Myrtle trembled from truck to kelson, while from aloft a jumble of splintered spars, cordage, and canvas fell upon the deck like a miniature avalanche.
Captain Prout's first impressions were those of pained surprise. For the moment he was firmly convinced that the schooner had piled herself upon an uncharted rock, but the absence of any signs of the vessel pounding against a hard bottom reassured him on that point.
Although in ignorance of what had occurred, the tough old skipper rose to the occasion.
"Steady on your helm!" he shouted to the man at the wheel. "Don't let her fall off her course."
The helmsman obeyed. It was no easy matter, since he was enveloped in a fold of the mainsail and the Myrtle was towing the main-topmast and a portion of the cross-trees alongside.
Alarmed by the commotion, the "watch below"--two men and a boy--rushed on deck, while the mate, issuing from the after-cabin with a tin pannikin of tea still grasped in his hand, raised his voice in a strongly worded enquiry to know what had happened to the old hooker.
"Get a light, Tom, an' we'll have a squint at the damage," shouted the Old Man. "One of you sound the well and see if she's making any. Dick, you just see if them sidelights are burning properly."
The mate disappeared, to return with a hurricane lamp.
"Jerusalem!" he exclaimed. "Ain't it a lash up?"
The mainmast had been broken off five feet below the cross-trees, with the result that the main and throat halliard blocks had gone with the broken spars, while the mainsail, with the gaff and boom, had fallen across the deck. The shroud halliards still held, and the wire shrouds themselves trailed athwart both bulwarks. Apparently the foremast was intact, since it was the main topmast stay that had parted under the strain.