“She’s got a clean pair of heels of her own, I’ll allow; but we have taught our little craft to go along too,” he answered, looking up with no small amount of pride at our well-set canvas.
A true sailor has a pride in the good behaviour of any craft he happens to be on board. Thus a couple of hours passed, and we certainly were gaining on our consort. I own that I had not been keeping that look-out to mark any change in the weather which I ought to have done. In a tropical climate, especially, a seaman cannot be too careful—the changes are so very sudden. I had gone below to dinner, that meal consisting of some cold salt beef and hard biscuit, washed down with rum-and-water drunk out of a tin cup. I had been off the deck rather more than half an hour, and was just putting my head up the companion-hatch, when I heard Jack Stretcher sing out, “Let go the fore-sheet!—down with the helm!—down with the—”
Before he could finish the sentence, there came the rushing sound of a heavy squall. Down bent the schooner to its fury—over, over she went. To spring on deck and to clamber up to the weather-bulwarks was the work of a moment. Still the vessel rose not: the helm had lost its power; the sheets remained fast; her sails reached the water.
“She’s gone!—she’s gone!” shouted my crew.
I still had a faint hope she might right herself again; but when she made the attempt, the furious wind beat her back, the sea washed over her sails, and in another moment she turned completely over. I can scarcely describe my sensations. I had no time, I fancy, to experience any; at all events, I do not remember what they were. I never lost hope; for, bad as things were, I did not expect to be drowned. In the meantime I had clambered to the outside of the bulwarks.
“Give me your hand here, sir!” I heard Jack Stretcher sing out, and looking up, I saw that he was hanging on to the main-chains. With his assistance, as the vessel went over, I managed to climb up on her keel, and there we together sat for the moment in comparative security. Like a true sailor, he had caught hold of a rope, and brought the end up with him. Our first thought was to look out for our shipmates. One had, unhappily, been below; the other two had been washed off the deck. They were, however, supporting themselves in the water, at no great distance from the vessel. When they saw us they shouted to us to help them, for neither of them were good swimmers.
“Keep up, my lads!” cried Jack, in return. “Get a little nearer, and I’ll lend you a hand.”
Meantime he was hauling in on the rope, and coiling it up ready to heave to them.
Just then I saw something dark moving under the water close astern of the vessel. Jack saw it also, as I guessed by the glance of his eye.
“What’s that!” I asked, a thrilling sensation of horror creeping over me, for I knew too well.