A bright look-out was kept for land, but no land appeared. For some hours the brig made fair progress, but as the evening drew on the wind again got up. The captain had gone below. He could not resist taking a pull at the rum bottle. We were carrying topsails and topgallantsails.
A sudden squall laid the brig over. The captain sprang on deck and shouted—
“All hands shorten sail! You, Peter and Jim, up aloft with you and hand the main-topgallant-sail.”
The blast had passed over and the brig had righted. Jim and I ran aloft to obey the order.
The rest of the people were still on deck except one man, who had gone up the fore-rigging, about to let fly the sheets and brail up; but, nearly worn out with labouring at the pumps, they must have very slowly obeyed the orders they received, for almost before a sheet was let go, another furious squall struck the brig. Over, over she heeled.
Jim and I slid down into the main-top.
“Hold on, whatever happens,” cried Jim.
The warning was given not a moment too soon. There was a fearful cracking sound, the mast quivered, it was almost right over the water, and just as the brig was on her beam-ends it gave way, tearing out the chain-plates on the weather side, and Jim and I were hurled with it into the raging sea.
I expected every moment that we should be washed off as the mast was towed along, and so we must have been had not the lee shrouds given way.
To regain the brig was impossible; the next instant the mast was clear and the brig drove on. Before she had got a cable’s length from us the foremast also went by the board.