Miles Wallingford: Sequel to "Afloat and Ashore"Cooper, James Fenimore
General
Miles Wallingford: Sequel to "Afloat and Ashore"
Cooper, James Fenimore
Merchant mariners -- Fiction; Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Fiction
She was hardly past us, when I could see preparations making to take in
canvass. At the instant she overshadowed us with her huge wings, this
vessel had top-gallant-sails set, with two top-mast, and a lower
studding-sail, besides carrying the lee-clew of her main-sail down, and
the other customary cloth spread. Up went her main-sail, almost as soon as
the captain made the signal with his arm; then all three of the
top-gallant-sails were flying at the same moment. Presently, the yards
were alive with men, and the loose canvass was rolled up, and the gaskets
passed. While this was doing, down came all the studding-sails together,
much as a bird shuts its wings. The booms disappeared immediately after.
"Look at that, Miles!" cried the delighted Marble. "Although a bloody
Englishman, that chap leaves nothing to be done over again. He puts
everything in its place, like an old woman stowing away her needles and
thread. I'll warrant you, the old blade is a keen one!"
"The ship is well handled, certainly, and her people work like mariners
who are trying to save the lives of mariners."
While this was passing between us, the frigate was stripped to her three
top-sails, spanker, jib, and fore-course Down came her yards, next; and
then they were covered with blue-jackets, like bees clustering around a
hive. We had scarcely time to note this, ere the men lay in, and the yards
were up again, with the sails reefed. This was no sooner done, than the
frigate, which had luffed the instant the steering-sails were in, was
trimmed close on a wind, and began to toss the water over her
sprit-sail-yard, as she met the waves like one that paid them no heed. No
sooner was the old seaman who directed all this, assured of the strength
of the wind he had to meet, than down went his main-sail again, and the
tack was hauled aboard.
The stranger was then under the smartest canvass a frigate can carry;
reefs in her top-sails, with the courses set. Her sail could be shortened
in an instant, yet she was under a press of it; more than an ordinary
vessel would presume to carry, perhaps, in so strong a breeze.
Notwithstanding the great jeopardy from which we had just escaped, and the
imminent hazard so lately run, all three of us watched the movements of
the frigate with as much satisfaction as a connoisseur would examine a
fine painting. Even Neb let several nigger expressions of pleasure
escape him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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