“Then keep her head two more points to the east; we must stand without the Fern Islands, as the wind seems inclined to eastern upon us.”
At this instant, a heavy squall struck the ship, and almost laid her on her beam-ends. “Luff, my lad—luff!” roared out Harry to the man at the wheel.
Seeing the ship much pressed, a midshipman with six men, were sent to take in the staysails, by which the ship was eased considerably. The wind, by this time, had risen to a perfect hurricane; the rain fell in torrents, and the sea-birds were screaming and fluttering about the rigging, as if seeking for shelter from the wind; the sea, likewise, had risen prodigiously, and the ship, groaning and weltering at every plunge, seemed to be cracking at every timber, whilst the creaking of the guns and the rattling of the blocks greatly increased the uproar and confusion.
“Surely some hag is dead to-night, it blows so desperately,” said Clark, coming aft to where Harry was standing; “but, as the ship makes good weather on this reach, as she is nearly bow on to the sea, it may be as well to keep her on this tack during the night.”
“O sirs,” said the carpenter, coming up with a face as long as his arm, “the ship is sinking, and we shall all go to the bottom.”
“What’s the matter?” said Harry.
“The ship has sprung a leak in the powder-magazine, and the water is pouring in like a sluice.”
“Hang your long phiz!” said an old grim fellow of a quartermaster, standing by the main-chains; “why don’t you go and stop it, then?”
“Do you, Clark,” said Harry, “go down and see what is the matter; and do you, carpenter, get your crew and man the weather pump.”