We saw nothing of the land after the first
half-hour, but at midnight we wore ship, and came up on the larboard tack.
The brig had hardly got round before the fore-tack went, and the foresail
split into ribands. We let the sail blow from the yard. By this time,
things began to look very serious, though, for some reason, I felt no
great alarm. The case was different with Tibbets and Wilson, who were
uneasy about Cape Clear. I had had a bit of a spat with them about waring,
believing, myself, that we should have gone clear of the Cape, on the
starboard tack. This prevented them saying much to me, and we had little
communication with each other that night. To own the truth, I was sorry I
had shipped in such a craft. Her owners were too poor to give a sea-going
vessel a proper outfit, and they were too near my own level to
create respect.
The fore-topsail had been mended as well as the foresail, and was set
anew. The sheets went, however, about two in the morning, and the sail
flew from the reef-band like a bit of muslin torn by a shop-boy. The brig
now had nothing set but a close-reefed main-topsail, and this I expected,
every minute, would follow the other canvass. It rained, blew
tremendously, and the sea was making constant breaches over us. Most of
the men were fagged out, some going below, while others, who remained on
deck, did, or _could_ do, nothing.
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