In less than a minute the huge sail fell from the yard, like a gigantic puff of white smoke blown from the top. It struggled and whipped terribly, but the good ropes held fast.
“Brace up the yard—haul out the bowline!” thundered the captain.
“Ay, ay, sir!” and it was done.
“Haul aft!”
The men ran off with the line, and the immense sheet came to its place.
This was the critical moment. The ship feeling the additional propulsion, made a headlong plunge. I held my breath. I expected nothing less than to see the heavy duck blown from the yard like a gossamer; but the strong fabric held fast, though straining awfully.
“She comes up, don’t she?” interrogated the captain of the man at the helm.
“Ay, ay, sir—she does!”
“How much?”
“Two points, sir!”