Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction
The ship's company went forward in silence. They perceived the full
extent of the danger. The first lieutenant and boatswain employed a
portion in backing the best bower anchor with the sheet; the others
roued up the cables from the tiers, and coiled them on the main-deck,
clear for running. All hands were busily employed, and employment made
them forget their fears. The work was done silently, but orderly and
steadily. In the meantime we had shoaled to eight fathoms, and it was
now nearly three o'clock; but as it was summer time, the days were long.
Indeed, when the weather was fine, there was little or no night, and
the weather was warm, which was all in our favour.
When everything was reported ready, I went round to examine and
ascertain if the cables would run clear. Satisfied that all was right,
I then picked out the men, and appointed those who were most trustworthy
to the stations of importance; and, having so done, I then returned to
the quarter-deck, and called up the carpenter and some of the topmen to
be ready with the axes to cut away the masts and lashings of the booms
and boats. Just as these orders were completed, the gale blew fiercer
than ever. We were now in seven fathoms water, and pressed heavy by the
gale.
I stood at the break of the gangway, the first lieutenant and master by
my side, and Cross a little forward, watching my eye. The men in the
chains continued to give the soundings in a clear steady voice, "By the
mark seven," "Quarter less seven," "And a half six." At last, the man
in the chains next to me, a fine old forecastle man, gave the sounding
"By the mark six," and he gave it with a louder voice than before, with
a sort of defiance, as much as to say, "The time is come, let the
elements do their worst."
The time was come. "Silence, fore and aft. Every man down under the
half-deck, except those stationed. Cut away the boom lashings, and
clear the boats." This was soon done, and reported. "Now then, my
lads, be steady. Cut away the lanyards in the chains."
One after another the lanyards and backstays were severed; the masts
groaned and creaked, and then the fore-mast and main-mast were over the
side almost at the same time; the mizen followed, as the frigate
broached to and righted, leaving the ship's deck a mass of wreck and
confusion; but no one was hurt, from the precautions which had been
taken, the mast having been cut away before we rounded to, to anchor, as
otherwise, they would have fallen aft and not gone clear of the ship.
"Stand by the best bower. Stand clear of the cable. Let go the
anchor."
As soon as the best bower cable was nearly out, the sheet anchor and
small bower were let go at the same moment, and the result was to be
ascertained.
CHAPTER FORTY.
The frigate was head to wind, rising and pitching with the heavy sea,
but not yet feeling the strain of the cables: the masts lay rolling and
beating alongside.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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