'All gallant-hearted girls wish that,' said he. 'But why?'
'That she might be able to climb out on to the bowsprit and watch the "Lady Emma" rushing at her.'
'Is that so, miss?' cried the captain, whipping round upon me with his Irish briskness and arch merry eyes. I smiled. 'It can be managed if you please.'
I looked at the long bowsprit forking out into jib-booms far ahead, with white jibs curving upon it motionless as ice, save when now and again one or another breathed to the plunge of the ship.
'There must be no risks!' cried Mrs. Burke.
'Chaw!' exclaimed her husband. 'Will you trust yourself in my hands, Miss Otway?'
'I will indeed.'
He called to the boatswain of the ship, a big seaman with strong red whiskers and a whistle round his neck: the finest specimen of an English seaman I ever saw out of a man-of-war; this man who acted as second mate, though uncertificated, I had once or twice conversed with when he was on the quarter-deck, and found him very civil and communicative, and a relief to the eye after leering Mr. Green.
The captain gave him certain directions. He called to a couple of men, and amongst them—but I am unable to explain their procedure—they rigged up a chair attached by a tackle to a stay; they bound me securely in the chair, and by some machinery of ropes they gently and slowly hauled me on to the bowsprit, the captain and the boatswain sliding out in company. Mrs. Burke watched us with a countenance of fright: I felt excessively nervous whilst I was being drawn to the extremity of the great spar, and held my eyes closed, but did not shriek nor speak. Indeed, somehow I felt safe, though a landsman might have regarded my situation as in the last degree perilous.