“Steady it is,” replied the steersman.
“Look out!” shouted the captain and several of the men, simultaneously.
Every one seized hold of whatever firm object chanced to be within reach; next moment the black billow fell like an avalanche on the poop, and rushing along the decks, swept the waist-boat and all the loose spars into the sea. The ship staggered under the shock, and it seemed to every one on deck that she must inevitably founder; but in a few seconds she recovered, the water gushed from the scuppers and sides in cataracts, and once more they drove swiftly before the gale.
In about twenty minutes the wind moderated, and while some of the men went aloft to clear away the wreck of the topsails and make all snug, others went below to put on dry garments.
“That was a narrow escape, Mr Millons,” remarked the captain, as he stood by the starboard-rails.
“It was, sir,” replied the mate. “It’s a good job too, sir, that none o’ the ’ands were washed overboard.”
“It is, indeed, Mr Millons; we’ve reason to be thankful for that; but I’m sorry to see that we’ve lost our waist-boat.”
“We’ve lost our spare sticks, sir,” said the mate, with a lugubrious face, while he wrung the brine out of his hair; “and I fear we’ve nothink left fit to make a noo foretopmast or a jib-boom.”
“True, Mr Millons; we shall have to run to the nearest port on the African coast to refit; luckily we are not very far from it. Meanwhile, tell Mr Markham to try the well; it is possible that we may have sprung a leak in all this straining, and see that the wreck of the foretopmast is cleared away. I shall go below and consult the chart; if any change in the weather takes place, call me at once.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the mate, as he placed his hand to windward of his mouth, in order to give full force to the terrific tones in which he proceeded to issue his captain’s commands.