Dana, Richard Henry, 1815-1882; Sailors; Seafaring life; Voyages and travels
We had but just got the rigging coiled up, and were waiting to
hear ``Go below the watch!'' when the main royal worked loose from
the gaskets, and blew directly out to leeward, flapping, and
shaking the mast like a wand. Here was a job for somebody. The
royal must come in or be cut adrift, or the mast would be snapped
short off. All the light hands in the starboard watch were sent up
one after another, but they could do nothing with it. At length,
John, the tall Frenchman, the head of the starboard watch (and a
better sailor never stepped upon a deck), sprang aloft, and, by
the help of his long arms and legs, succeeded, after a hard
struggle,-- the sail blowing over the yard-arm to leeward, and the
skysail adrift directly over his head,-- in smothering it and
frapping it with long pieces of sinnet. He came very near being
blown or shaken from the yard several times, but he was a true
sailor, every finger a fish-hook. Having made the sail snug, he
prepared to send the yard down, which was a long and difficult
job; for, frequently, he was obliged to stop, and hold on with all
his might for several minutes, the ship pitching so as to make it
impossible to do anything else at that height. The yard at length
came down safe, and, after it, the fore and mizzen royal yards
were sent down. All hands were then sent aloft, and for an hour or
two we were hard at work, making the booms well fast, unreeving
the studding-sail and royal and skysail gear, getting
rolling-ropes on the yard, setting up the weather
breast-backstays, and making other preparations for a storm. It
was a fine night for a gale; just cool and bracing enough for
quick work, without being cold, and as bright as day. It was sport
to have a gale in such weather as this. Yet it blew like a
hurricane. The wind seemed to come with a spite, an edge to it,
which threatened to scrape us off the yards. The force of the wind
was greater than I had ever felt it before; but darkness, cold,
and wet are the worst parts of a storm, to a sailor.
Having got on deck again, we looked round to see what time of
night it was, and whose watch. In a few minutes the man at the
wheel struck four bells, and we found that the other watch was
out, and our own half out. Accordingly, the starboard watch went
below, and left the ship to us for a couple of hours, yet with
orders to stand by for a call.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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