Although the _Red Eric_ was thrown on her beam-ends, or nearly so, by
the excessive violence of the squall, the preparations to meet it had
been so well made that she righted again almost immediately, and now
flew before the wind under bare poles with a velocity that was
absolutely terrific.
Ailie had been nearly thrown out of her berth when the ship lay over,
and now when she listened to the water hissing and gurgling past the
little port that lighted her cabin, and felt the staggering of the
vessel, as burst after burst of the hurricane almost tore the masts out
of her, she lay trembling with anxiety and debating with herself whether
or not she ought to rise and go on deck.
Captain Dunning well knew that his child would be naturally filled with
fear, for this was the first severe squall she had ever experienced, so,
as he could not quit the deck himself, he called Glynn Proctor to him
and sent him down with a message.
"Well, Ailie," said Glynn, cheerfully, as he opened the door and peeped
in; "how d'ye get on, dear? The captain has sent me to say that the
worst o' this blast is over, and you've nothing to fear."
"I am glad to hear that, Glynn," replied the child, holding out her
hand, while a smile lighted up her face and smoothed out the lines of
anxiety from her brow. "Come and sit by me, Glynn, and tell me what
like it is. I wish so much that I had been on deck. Was it grand,
Glynn?"
"It was uncommonly grand; it was even terrible--but I cannot sit with
you more than a minute, else my shipmates will say that I'm skulking."
"Skulking, Glynn! What is that?"
"Why, it's--it's shirking work, you know," said Glynn, somewhat puzzled.
Ailie laughed. "But you forget that I don't know what `shirking' means.
You must explain that too."
"How terribly green you are, Ailie."
"No! am I?" exclaimed the child in some surprise. "What _can_ have done
it? I'm not sick."
Glynn laughed outright at this, and then proceeded to explain the
meaning of the slang phraseology he had used. "Green, you must know,
means ignorant," he began.
"How funny! I wonder why."
"Well, I don't know exactly. Perhaps it's because when a fellow's asked
to answer questions he don't understand, he's apt to turn either blue
with rage or yellow with fear--or both; and that, you know, would make
him green. I've heard it said that it implies a comparison of men to
plants--very young ones, you know, that are just up, just born, as it
were, and have not had much experience of life, are green of course--but
I like my own definition best."
It may perhaps be scarcely necessary to remark that our hero was by no
means singular in this little preference of his own definition to that
of any one else!
"Well, and what does skulking mean, and shirking work?" persisted Ailie.
"It means hiding so as to escape duty, my little catechist; but--"
"Hallo! Glynn, Glynn Proctor," roared the first mate from the
deck--"where's that fellow? Skulking, I'll be bound. Lay aloft there
and shake out the foretopsail. Look alive."
"Ay, ay, sir," was the ready response as the men sprang to obey.
"There, you have it now, Ailie, explained and illustrated," cried Glynn,
starting up. "Here I am, at this minute in a snug, dry berth chatting
to you, and in half a minute more I'll be out on the end o' the foreyard
holding on for bare life, with the wind fit to tear off my jacket and
blow my ducks into ribbons, and the rain and spray dashing all over me
fit to blot me out altogether. There's a pretty little idea to turn
over in your mind, Ailie, while I'm away."
Glynn closed the door at the last word, and, as he had prophesied, was,
within half a minute, in the unenviable position above referred to.
The force of the squall was already broken, and the men were busy
setting close-reefed topsails, but the rain that followed the squall bid
fair to "blot them out," as Glynn said, altogether. It came down, not
in drops, but in masses, which were caught up by the fierce gale and
mingled with the spray, and hurled about and on with such violent
confusion, that it seemed as though the whole creation were converted
into wind and water, and had engaged in a war of extermination, the
central turmoil of which was the _Red Eric_.
But the good ship held on nobly. Although not a fast sailer she was an
excellent sea-boat, and danced on the billows like a sea-mew. The
squall, however, was not over. Before the topsails had been set many
minutes it burst on them again with redoubled fury, and the main-topsail
was instantly blown into ribbons. Glynn and his comrades were once more
ordered aloft to furl the remaining sails, but before this could be done
the foretopmast was carried away, and in falling it tore away the
jib-boom also. At the same moment a tremendous sea came rolling on
astern; in the uncertain light it looked like a dark moving mountain
that was about to fall on them.
"Luff, luff a little--steady!" roared the captain, who saw the summit of
the wave toppling over the stern, and who fully appreciated the danger
of being "pooped," which means having a wave launched upon the
quarterdeck.
"Steady it is," replied the steersman.
"Look out!" shouted the captain and several of the men, simultaneously.
Every one seized hold of whatever firm object chanced to be within
reach; next moment the black billow fell like an avalanche on the poop,
and rushing along the decks, swept the waist-boat and all the loose
spars into the sea. The ship staggered under the shock, and it seemed
to every one on deck that she must inevitably founder; but in a few
seconds she recovered, the water gushed from the scuppers and sides in
cataracts, and once more they drove swiftly before the gale.
In about twenty minutes the wind moderated, and while some of the men
went aloft to clear away the wreck of the topsails and make all snug,
others went below to put on dry garments.
"That was a narrow escape, Mr Millons," remarked the captain, as he
stood by the starboard-rails.
"It was, sir," replied the mate. "It's a good job too, sir, that none
o' the 'ands were washed overboard."
"It is, indeed, Mr Millons; we've reason to be thankful for that; but
I'm sorry to see that we've lost our waist-boat."
"We've lost our spare sticks, sir," said the mate, with a lugubrious
face, while he wrung the brine out of his hair; "and I fear we've
nothink left fit to make a noo foretopmast or a jib-boom."
"True, Mr Millons; we shall have to run to the nearest port on the
African coast to refit; luckily we are not very far from it. Meanwhile,
tell Mr Markham to try the well; it is possible that we may have sprung
a leak in all this straining, and see that the wreck of the foretopmast
is cleared away. I shall go below and consult the chart; if any change
in the weather takes place, call me at once."
"Yes, sir," answered the mate, as he placed his hand to windward of his
mouth, in order to give full force to the terrific tones in which he
proceeded to issue his captain's commands.
Captain Dunning went below, and looking into Ailie's berth, nodded his
wet head several times, and smiled with his damp visage benignly--which
acts, however well meant and kindly they might be, were, under the
circumstances, quite unnecessary, seeing that the child was sound
asleep. The captain then dried his head and face with a towel about as
rough as the mainsail of a seventy-four, and with a violence that would
have rubbed the paint off the figurehead of the _Red Eric_. Then he sat
down to his chart, and having pondered over it for some minutes, he went
to the foot of the companion-ladder and roared up--"Lay the course
nor'-nor'-east-and-by-nor'-half-nor', Mr Millons."
To which Mr Millons replied in an ordinary tone, "Ay, ay, sir," and
then roared--"Lay her head nor'-nor'-east-and-by-nor'-half-nor'," in an
unnecessarily loud and terribly fierce tone of voice to the steersman,
as if that individual were in the habit of neglecting to obey orders,
and required to be perpetually threatened in what may be called a tone
of implication.
The steersman answered in what, to a landsman, would have
sounded as a rather amiable and forgiving tone of
voice--"Nor'-nor'-east-and-by-nor'-half-nor' it is, sir;" and thereupon
the direction of the ship's head was changed, and the _Red Eric_,
according to Tim Rokens, "bowled along" with a stiff breeze on the
quarter, at the rate of ten knots, for the west coast of Africa.