They cut the grapnels and floated clear,
and next mornin' we saw 'em on their beam ends on a sandbank a mile down
the river. That's how I fust come across Mr. Diggle; I may be wrong, but
I says it again: look out for squalls."
For some days the wind held fair, and the ship being now in the main
track of the trades, all promised well for a quick run to the Cape. But
suddenly there was a change; a squall struck the vessel from the
southwest. Captain Barker, catching sight of Desmond and a seaman near at
hand, shouted:
"Furl the top-gallant sail, you two. Now show a leg, or, by thunder, the
masts will go by the board."
Springing up the shrouds on the weather side, Desmond was quickest aloft.
He crawled out on the yard, the wind threatening every moment to tear him
from his dizzy, rocking perch, and began with desperate energy to furl
the straining canvas. It was hard work, and but for the development of
his muscles during the past few months, and a naturally cool head, the
task would have been beyond his powers. But setting his teeth and
exerting his utmost strength, he accomplished his share of it as quickly
as the able seaman on the lee yard.
The sail was half furled when all at once the mast swung through a huge
arc; the canvas came with tremendous force against the cross trees, and
Desmond, flung violently outwards, found himself swinging in midair,
clinging desperately to the leech of the sail. With a convulsive movement
he grasped at a loose gasket above him, and catching a grip, wound it
twice or thrice round his arm.
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