“That’s all you know about the matter, youngster,” he answered in a scornful tone.
“We shall be taken aback if we don’t shorten sail, and I don’t know what will happen,” I remarked to Blyth, when I rejoined him. “I have a good mind to run down and tell the first mate.”
Scarcely had I said this, and was about to spring down the companion-hatch, when Mr Ling sang out—
“Ready, about ship!”
The helm was put down, the yards were being braced round, and the brig’s head brought to the wind, when, as I looked up, I saw every sail aback. At that moment I heard the voice of the captain, who had just come on deck, shouting, “All hands shorten sail and save ship,” but the order was given too late. The squall I had seen coming up just then struck her, and in one moment, with a fearful crash, the main-mast fell. I should have been crushed had I not by tumbling head first down the hatchway avoided it; the next instant the foremast followed, and the bob-stays giving way, dragged the bowsprit on board. The moment the crash was heard the first mate sprang up the companion-ladder shooting me with his head on deck again. I looked round expecting to see many of the crew killed. My eye first fell on Mr Blyth, who was holding on by a stanchion, and apparently uninjured. The second mate, too, excepting a blow on the shoulder, had escaped, while of the crew, though they looked very much astonished, not a man was seriously hurt. Several of them, indeed, who had been below, had only rushed up on hearing the crash of the falling masts. They were gazing with open eyes on the utterly dismantled state of the brig, lately so taunt and trim, waiting for the captain’s orders what to do. But what had become of him? He was nowhere to be seen. At first I feared that he had been knocked overboard, but as I looked about I caught sight of a man’s legs sticking out from under a mass of sails and rigging. Knowing that it must be the captain, I ran to drag him out, calling on Blyth to assist me.
We soon got him free, but he did not move; we feared that he was dead. At Blyth’s suggestion, with the help of two of the men, we carried him below and placed him on his bed.
Greatly to our relief he in a short time began to show signs of life.
“He will soon come round,” said Blyth; “I will watch him, so do you go on deck, Harry, where I am sure you will be wanted, and tell the first mate how he is getting on.”
I hurried up, and reported the captain’s state to my uncle.
“Thank heaven!” he exclaimed; “I had no wish to take his place, but I must attend to the work before us—we have plenty of it.”