I pulled on the gun-cover, and had already gotten it fast when the order came to clew up the mainsail. Then, as I had to go aloft with the rest, I joined Bill and Ernest in the weather main-rigging.
“Fallin’ glass,” said Bill. “I youst heard the mate tell Henry. Ole Richards looks worried. Didn’t think he’d take that interest, hey?”
We rolled the sail up in short order, keeping an eye on the poop, where Howard was now squinting away at the sun with his sextant.
“Eight bells,” came his hoarse croak, and a Norwegian struck them off loudly.
“Roll up the spanker an’ foresail,” came the order, and, instead of getting dinner, the watch turned out with the rest, and all hands were kept busy. Then came the topsails, and finally we reefed the fore and main topsails, the barque rolling log-wise in a very uneasy roll that came quickly from the south’ard.
It was one bell before we were allowed on deck, and then, all tired and hot, we scattered for cool places to eat the deferred meal.
Hardly had we finished than a cool, clammy mist spread itself over the ocean, and a good breeze began blowing from the north’ard. The sun appeared like a copper ball, and as it dimmed the breeze increased. The swell now began running with a tremendous heave from the southwest, and the barque rolled her channels under. All hands were kept on deck.
The black Doctor had just gathered the last of the forecastle truck into the galley, where the little Dane, Johnson, was allowed to clean them up, when we heard a deep moaning to the south’ard. The bank of the mist seemed to grow thicker. Then, with a slow rising, droning roar, the hurricane struck the barque and laid her over on her side until her lee dead-eyes were a foot below the sea.
How Miss Allen and Curtis climbed down off the poop, I could never guess. The deep notes of the wind rushing through the rigging drowned all sound save the cries of Hawkson and Gull, who, hanging on to the poop-rail, bawled for the men to man the braces and get the ship hove to.
It struck us full upon the quarter, and nothing had carried away, although the straining strips of canvas aloft seemed marvellously strong to withstand that furious outfly. The sea was as white as a coral bank, looking as though covered with a finely drifting snow, as the wind swept the top of the ocean level and drove the foam before it.