[The White Squall by John Conroy Hutcheson]@TWC D-Link book
The White Squall

CHAPTER TWELVE
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"Look alive and bring the sheets to the capstan." Then, in a few more minutes, foot by foot, the clew-garnet blocks rattling the while like a lot of tin kettles, the ends of the mainsail were hove in nearer the deck, when it became fairly distended before the powerful breeze, which, catching it now full, seemed to make the _Josephine_ leap out of the water as if she were going to fly--although, the next instant, she dived down with a heavy plunge forwards that sent a great green sea right over her bows on to the forecastle, whence it poured down like a cataract into the waist, flooding the main-deck and floating aft everything movable into the cabin.
We had already two men at the wheel, a vessel running before the wind being always more unmanageable than when sailing close-hauled or on a bowline; but this additional sail-power made the ship yaw and break off so continuously that two more hands had to come and help the others in the steering.

It was ticklish work; for, if she were once allowed to broach to, one of the pursuing waves would soon leap over the taffrail, and then it would be a case for us! The rest of the crew, too, were set to work rigging up relieving tackle, in case the tiller ropes should part; for, one moment the stern would be lifted high out of the water and the next sunk in the trough of the sea, causing a great strain on the rudder, which banged from port to starboard every instant, causing constant work in putting the helm up and down so as to preserve a straight course.
Preventer stays were also set up to take away some of the leverage from the masts, everything being made as snug as possible under the circumstances; and so, we drove on before the gale, going wheresoever it liked, until, as the captain said, it had time to blow itself out-- although there did not seem any early prospect of this at present! During all the bustle that was going on, I had managed to remain on deck unperceived; but now that matters had calmed down and nothing more urgent called for attention, Captain Miles, looking round the poop, caught sight of me.
"Hullo, Tom!" he cried, "what are you doing here?
You ought to have been in your bunk hours ago." "I only stopped up to see the storm," I said.

"Mr Marline saw me on deck some time since and said I might remain." "Did he?
Well, then, it's all over now, and there'll be nothing fresh till morning; so you can go below like a brace of shakes." With these words, he hustled me off the poop, good-naturedly, not losing sight of me until he had seen me go down the ladder and into the cabin-- much against my inclination, I must confess, as I wanted to see all that was going on.
Of course, as I had to go down, there was no use in my not turning in when I got there; but I stayed awake for a long time, listening to the thumping of the sea against the sides of the ship and the creaking of the timbers; while my cot swayed to and fro, hoisting me up to the deck planking one second, and then almost capsizing me on to the floor, until I at last sank to rest, wearied out with the motion and longing for the morning to come.
Harry, the steward, awakened me quite late.
"Here, you sah, Mass' Tom, rouse up!" he sang out close to my ears, making me jump out of my bunk in a brace of shakes.

"It am gone eight bells an' break-fuss ready long time." Captain Miles had already had his early meal, I found, when I had dressed and got out into the cabin saloon; so, after making a hurried repast, for I was anxious to see how the ship was getting on, I followed him on deck.
The sea looked awful! Far and wide, it was covered with broken waves and sheets of foam, the huge billows fighting and struggling together in mad turmoil; while the wind shrieked as it tore through the vessel's cordage and almost blew me back as I essayed to mount up the poop-ladder.
The _Josephine_ was still plunging on before the gale, as I had last seen her the night before, only that the mainsail had been torn away, although the tattered fragments were left clinging round the yard-arms, one or two longer pieces streaming out like pennants from the leech at each end of the spar, and some other strips had clung to the fore- rigging as they were blown away.
The foretop-sail had been furled, and the ship was driving on with only her close-reefed main-topsail set; but preparations were being made as I got on deck for hoisting the mizzen staysail, so that we might more easily bring her head round to the wind in case of its showing any sign of shifting.
This, however, was but a last resource, which could only be adopted in the extreme peril of being taken aback.

There is no more ticklish operation than that of wearing a ship in a heavy sea where there is a strong following wind; and Captain Miles, for one, I could see, intended to let the vessel drive on as long as the gale lasted, unless it should try to head us, when of course he would have no alternative left but that of laying-to.
He did not seem a bit uneasy as yet, though; for he greeted me quite cheerily when I at last managed to clamber up on the poop and make my way aft to where he was standing, holding on to everything I could clutch to maintain my footing.


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