It may perhaps be scarcely necessary to remark that our hero was by no means singular in this little preference of his own definition to that of any one else!
“Well, and what does skulking mean, and shirking work?” persisted Ailie.
“It means hiding so as to escape duty, my little catechist; but—”
“Hallo! Glynn, Glynn Proctor,” roared the first mate from the deck—“where’s that fellow? Skulking, I’ll be bound. Lay aloft there and shake out the foretopsail. Look alive.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” was the ready response as the men sprang to obey.
“There, you have it now, Ailie, explained and illustrated,” cried Glynn, starting up. “Here I am, at this minute in a snug, dry berth chatting to you, and in half a minute more I’ll be out on the end o’ the foreyard holding on for bare life, with the wind fit to tear off my jacket and blow my ducks into ribbons, and the rain and spray dashing all over me fit to blot me out altogether. There’s a pretty little idea to turn over in your mind, Ailie, while I’m away.”
Glynn closed the door at the last word, and, as he had prophesied, was, within half a minute, in the unenviable position above referred to.
The force of the squall was already broken, and the men were busy setting close-reefed topsails, but the rain that followed the squall bid fair to “blot them out,” as Glynn said, altogether. It came down, not in drops, but in masses, which were caught up by the fierce gale and mingled with the spray, and hurled about and on with such violent confusion, that it seemed as though the whole creation were converted into wind and water, and had engaged in a war of extermination, the central turmoil of which was the Red Eric.
But the good ship held on nobly. Although not a fast sailer she was an excellent sea-boat, and danced on the billows like a sea-mew. The squall, however, was not over. Before the topsails had been set many minutes it burst on them again with redoubled fury, and the main-topsail was instantly blown into ribbons. Glynn and his comrades were once more ordered aloft to furl the remaining sails, but before this could be done the foretopmast was carried away, and in falling it tore away the jib-boom also. At the same moment a tremendous sea came rolling on astern; in the uncertain light it looked like a dark moving mountain that was about to fall on them.
“Luff, luff a little—steady!” roared the captain, who saw the summit of the wave toppling over the stern, and who fully appreciated the danger of being “pooped,” which means having a wave launched upon the quarterdeck.