“Get the wreck of that boom cleared away, Manton, we won’t want the mainsail long. Here comes a squall. Look sharp. Close reef topsails.”
The boom was swaying to and fro so violently, that three of the men who sprang to obey the order were hurled by it into the lee scuppers. Gascoyne darted towards the broken spar and held it fast, while Manton quickly severed the ropes that fastened it to the sail and to the deck, then the former hurled it over the side with as much ease as if it had been an oar.
“Let her away now.”
“Why, that will run us right into the Long Shoal!” exclaimed Manton, anxiously, as the squall which had been approaching struck the schooner and laid her almost on her beam ends.
“I know it,” replied Gascoyne, curtly, as he thrust aside the man at the wheel and took the spokes in his own hands.
“It’s all we can do to find our way through that place in fine weather,” remonstrated the mate.
“I know it,” said Gascoyne, sternly.
Scraggs, who chanced to be standing by, seemed to be immensely delighted with the alarmed expression on Manton’s face. The worthy second mate hated the first mate so cordially, and attached so little value to his own life, that he would willingly have run the schooner on the rocks altogether, just to have the pleasure of laughing contemptuously at the wreck of Manton’s hopes.
“It’s worth while trying it,” suggested Scraggs, with a malicious grin.
“I mean to try it,” said Gascoyne, calmly.