“Not an air in the heavens, sir,” observed Mr Truck, the master, as Captain Trevelyan came on deck. “I cannot make anything of the weather.”
“But I can,” exclaimed the captain, taking a hurried glance to the westward. “What is that, do you think?”
He pointed to what seemed a long bank of driven snow rising out of the horizon. It extended nearly half-way round the horizon, every instant getting higher and higher.
“All hands shorten sail!” shouted the captain. “Up aloft, there! Lay out, haul down!”
The words produced a magical effect. In a minute, the listless crew were all activity and life. Up the rigging they swarmed like bees, some throwing themselves into the tops, others ascending the topgallant yards, and running out to either yard-arm, till every part of the ship swarmed with life, those on deck pulling and hauling with might and main, the officers assisting, every idler putting a hand to a rope. The topsails were quickly clewed up and furled, the other sails were handed, but scarcely were the men off the yards, than the high bank of foam approached the ship. There was a loud rushing, roaring noise.
“Down for your lives!” shouted the captain.
“Down for your lives, my lads,” repeated the lieutenants; and though the helm was put up, and the fore-topmast staysail hoisted, the wind, striking the tall ship, drove her down before it. Over she heeled. Down, down she went. It seemed as if she was never to rise again. The bravest held their breath. Many a cheek turned pale with fear. The captain waved his hand to the carpenter and his mates.
“Axes!” he shouted. They knew what that meant.
“I knew it would be so,” growled old Grim who was standing near Bill, holding on to the weather bulwarks. “First a calm, to dry the sap out of a fellow’s bones, and then a gale, to blow his teeth down his throat.”
“But there may be a calm again or a fair breeze, and the sun will shine out bright and clear,” answered Bill, who, however, felt more inclined to think that his last day had come, than he had ever been before. As he looked out, there was the sea, hitherto so smooth, now leaping and raging, and covered with seething foam, the spoon-drift flying in vast sheets of white, from top to top of its broken summits, while huge watery mountains seemed about to burst over the deck. Still, he knew very well that sailors had to expect rough seas as well as smooth, and that many a ship had been in a worse predicament and had escaped. As the captain cried out “axes,” the carpenter and his men sprang aft, with their shining weapons in their hands. Just then the ship gave a bound, it seemed like a race-horse darting forward. Up she rose, her head springing round, and feeling the power of the helm, away she flew before the hurricane.