'All hands!' came a hurricane response.
'All got your belts on?' I next cried.
'All!' was the answer—that is to say, all excepting myself, who, having worn a cork-jacket once, vowed never again to embark thus encumbered.
'Are your sails hooked on ready for hoisting?' I shouted.
'All ready, sir!'
'And your haul-off rope?'
'All ready, sir!'
'Now then, my lads—look out, all hands!'
There was a moment's pause:
'Let her go!' I roared.