"The Indiaman had sheered almost broadside on to the clouds, her jib was still up, and I knew the next time the clouds _rose_ we should fairly have it. Flash after flash came, and clap after clap of thunder, _such_ as you hear before a tornado--yet the chief officer wasn't to be seen, and the others seemed uncertain what to do first; while everyone began to wonder and pass along questions where he could be. In fact, he had disappeared. For my part, I thought it very strange he stayed so long; but there wasn't a moment to lose. I jumped down off the poop-stairs, walked forward on the quarter-deck, and said coolly to the men nearest me,'Run and haul down that jib yonder--set the spanker here, aft. You'll have her taken slap on her beam: quick, my lads!' The men did so at once. Macleod was calling out anxiously for Mr Finch. 'Stand by the anchors there!' I sang out, 'to let go the starboard one, the _moment_ she swings head to wind!' The Scotch mate turned his head; but Rickett's face, by the next flash, showed he saw the good of it, and there was no leisure for arguing, especially as I spoke in a way to be heard. I walked to the wheel, and got hold of Jacobs to take the weather helm. "We were all standing ready, at the pitch of expecting it. Westwood, too, having appeared again by this time beside me, I whispered to him to run forward and look after the anchors--when someone came hastily up the after-hatchway, with a glazed hat and pilot-coat on, stepped straight to the binnacle, looked in behind me, then at the black bank of cloud, then aloft. Of course I supposed it was the mate again, but didn't trouble myself to glance at him further--when 'Hold on with the anchors!' he sang out in a loud voice--'hold on there for your lives!' Heavens! it was the captain himself!