“I would not hesitate to tell him so,” I observed; “when his life may depend upon it, he may perhaps take your advice, although he will not follow that of any other man.”
“At all events, I’ll try it,” said Tubbs; and going up to the mate, he told him what he thought. I had very little hope, however, that the mate would listen to him.
“You think yourself a better seaman than I am. Just go and attend to your duty,” was the answer. Not two minutes had elapsed, however, before the mate ordered the crew to stand by the halyards. Presently he shouted, “All hands make sail.”
The boatswain went forward, axe in hand, to cut the cable. The topsails, closely-reefed, were let fall, the fore-staysail and jib hoisted.
“Cut!” shouted the mate.
The ship cast the right way to starboard, the helm was put to port, and she begun to stand off from the shore.
“She’ll do it, and we shall have a new lease of life,” observed Tubbs when he rejoined Harry and me; “that is to say, if the wind holds as it is; but if not, the chances of our hauling off the shore are doubtful.”
For some minutes the ship stood on with her head to the north-west, all hands anxiously watching the sails, and casting a look every now and then towards the dark outline of the shore, which could be distinguished through the gloom. The current was all this time drifting us to the northward, but it appeared to me that we were getting no farther from the coast. Of that, however, it was difficult to judge by the rate at which we were sailing, as although she might be moving fast through the water, she might really be making but little way over the ground. Tubbs several times went aft to the binnacle.
“She has fallen off two points, I’m sorry to say,” he observed; “still it is possible that we may beat off, as the wind may shift again; but I wish that it had kept steady, and we should have done it.”
Scarcely, however, had he spoken, when the sails gave a loud flap.