The Pilot: A Tale of the SeaCooper, James Fenimore
History
The Pilot: A Tale of the Sea
Cooper, James Fenimore
Historical fiction; Sea stories; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Naval operations -- Fiction; War stories
There was, however, no time for reply; the ship had been rapidly running
into the wind, and as the efforts of the crew were paralyzed by the
contradictory orders they had heard, she gradually lost her way, and in
a few seconds all her sails were taken aback.
Before the crew understood their situation the pilot had applied the
trumpet to his mouth, and in a voice that rose above the tempest, he
thundered forth his orders. Each command was given distinctly, and with
a precision that showed him to be master of his profession. The helm
was kept fast, the head-yards swung up heavily against the wind, and the
vessel was soon whirling round on her heel, with a retrograde movement.
Griffith was too much of a seaman not to perceive that the pilot
had seized, with a perception almost intuitive, the only method that
promised to extricate the vessel from her situation. He was young,
impetuous, and proud--but he was also generous. Forgetting his
resentment and his mortification, he rushed forward among the men, and,
by his presence and example, added certainty to the experiment. The
ship fell off slowly before the gale, and bowed her yards nearly to the
water, as she felt the blast pouring its fury on her broadside, while
the surly waves beat violently against her stern, as if in reproach at
departing from her usual manner of moving.
The voice of the pilot, however, was still heard, steady and calm, and
yet so clear and high as to reach every ear; and the obedient seamen
whirled the yards at his bidding in despite of the tempest, as if they
handled the toys of their childhood. When the ship had fallen off dead
before the wind, her head-sails were shaken, her after-yards trimmed,
and her helm shifted, before she had time to run upon the danger that
had threatened, as well to leeward as to windward. The beautiful fabric,
obedient to her government, threw her bows up gracefully towards the
wind again; and, as her sails were trimmed, moved out from among the
dangerous shoals, in which she had been embayed, as steadily and swiftly
as she had approached them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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