- The Dim Lamp In The Forecastle
Swings To And Fro, And Things "Fetch Away" And Go Over To
Leeward.
- "Doesn't that booby of a second mate ever mean to
take in his top-gallant sails?
- He'll have the sticks out of
her soon," says old Bill, who was always growling, and, like
most old sailors, did not like to see a ship abused. - By-and-by
an order is given - "Aye, aye, sir!" from the forecastle; - rigging
is heaved down on deck; - the noise of a sail is heard fluttering
aloft, and the short, quick cry which sailors make when hauling
upon clewlines. - "Here comes his fore-top-gallant sail in!" - We
are wide awake, and know all that's going on as well as if we were
on deck. - A well-known voice is heard from the mast-head singing out
the officer of the watch to haul taught the weather brace. - "Hallo!
There's S - - - aloft to furl the sail!" - Next thing, rigging is
heaved down directly over our heads, and a long-drawn cry and a
rattling of hanks announce that the flying-jib has come in. - The
second mate holds on to the main top-gallant sail until a heavy
sea is shipped, and washes over the forecastle as though the
whole ocean had come aboard; when a noise further aft shows
that that sail, too, is taking in. After this, the ship is
more easy for a time; two bells are struck, and we try to get a
little sleep.
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