Are manned and reefed, then hoisted up again.
More distant grew receding Candia’s shore,
And southward of the west Cape Spado bore.
Four hours the sun his high meridian throne
Had left, and o’er the Atlantic regions shone;
Still blacker clouds, that all the skies invade,
Draw o’er his sullied orb a dismal shade;
A lowering squall obscures the southern sky,
Before whose sweeping breath the waters fly;
Its weight the top-sails can no more sustain—