“Next morning we were off Holyhead, with a fresh westerly breeze and southerly swell. We were making but poor headway, and shortly the hawser parted. ‘All hands on deck,’ was shouted by Captain O’Halloran, and a crew of eighty men promptly appeared on deck, for we carried a double crew. ‘Loose sails fore and aft; hands in the tops and cross-trees to see that all is clear and to overhaul gear; let royals and sky sails alone.’ “The boatswain’s whistle sounded fore and aft as the men quickly took their positions and laid hold of the halyards and braces. [Illustration: [_Photo, Henry Hughes & Son, Ltd._ CRACKING-ON!] “‘Mr. Taylor, loose the headsails.’ ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ The topsail, courses and topgallant sails were all loose and gaskets made up. ‘Now then, my men, lead your topsail halyards fore and aft, and up with them.’ Away the crew walk along with the halyards, and then with a long pull and a pull all together the topsail yards are mastheaded to the chantie: “‘Then up the yard must go, Whiskey for my Johnny, Oh, whiskey for the life of man, Whiskey, Johnny.’” With the man at the wheel, keeping his eyes on the weather-luff of the foreroyal, and allowing the sail to be just on the tremble, so as not to lose an inch to windward, the _Red Jacket_ went tearing through the seas, throwing them on either side in a sparkling cascade. By evening the wind had increased, and the captain ordered life-lines to be run fore and aft, and the decks to be sanded and the scuppers to be free. The clipper plunges along, the man at the wheel eases her a few spokes when a squall strikes her, and then bang goes the second jib, blown out of the bolt ropes with the report of a gun. With seas coming in over the forecastle, the hands set another jib, and by this time the clipper is indeed travelling, for by the log she is doing eighteen knots.