Captain Dall and Will, who had been standing near the binnacle, seized and clung to the wheel.
“She will right herself,” said the former, as he observed that the masts rose a little out of the sea.
Fortunately the good ship did so, and then, although there was scarcely a rag of canvas upon her, she sprang away before the hurricane like a sea-gull.
Terrible indeed is the situation of those who are compelled to “scud under bare poles,” when He who formed the great deep, puts forth His mighty power, causing them to “stagger and be at their wits’ end.” For hours the Foam rushed wildly over the sea, now rising like a cork on the crest of the billows, anon sinking like lead into the valleys between. She was exposed to double danger; that of being cast upon one of the numerous coral reefs with which the Pacific in some parts abounds, or being “pooped” and overwhelmed by the seas which followed her.
During this anxious period little was said or done except in reference to the working of the ship. Men snatched sleep and food at intervals as they best might. At length, after two days, the gale began to abate, and the sea to go down.
“It was sharp while it lasted, captain, but it seems to have done us little harm,” said Will Osten, on the evening of the second day.
“True,” said the captain heartily; “we’ll soon repair damages and make all snug.—Is there much water in the hold, Mr Cupples?”
The mate answered gloomily that there was a good deal.
It must not be supposed that Mr Cupples’ gloominess arose from anxiety. Not at all. It was simply his nature to be gloomy. If it had been his duty to have proclaimed the approach of his own marriage, he would have done it as sadly as if it had been the announcement of his death. His thoughts were gloomy, and his tones were appropriate thereto. Even his jokes were grave, and his countenance was lugubrious.
“It is gaining on us, sir,” added Mr Cupples.