A moment before, the most
profound repose was reigning, but with the shrill call that instantly
rang out, all was changed to a scene of the most intense activity.
Men came tumbling up to join the watch on deck in lowering two of the
jibs, and reefing a third, while the great fore and aft sails were
reduced to less than half their size in a twinkling.
Orders came sharp and fast, three seamen in each top were hastily
lowering and lashing the topsails, when the sound heard by Ralph, and
which had rapidly increased to a sputtering roar, was split as it were
by a crash of thunder. The fog melted away like a dissolving dream,
showing beyond the burst of sunlight, a coppery cloud that swept the
ocean to windward, driving before it a line of hissing foam.
By this time captain and first mate were up. The Wanderer lay without
headway, though bobbing slowly as a slight whiff of air stirred the
flattened mainsail.
"Meet her! Meet her, Mr. Duff!" shouted Gary, instantly realizing the
coming peril.
The men were tumbling from the tops, Ralph among the last, for though
ordered down by the considerate mate, he returned with the others when
the topsails were to be stowed.
Duff and two old hands were at the wheel; others were lashing loose
articles, when with a scream and a screech, the squall was upon them.
At that season and on that coast, these sudden commotions are
especially treacherous and full of peril. Coming, as it were from
nowhere, either on the heels of fog or calm, their advent is doubly
dreaded by the unwary mariner.
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