The end of your
long boom is liable to trip as you roll and wallow through the waves,
and every time you rise on the crest of a big comber your rudder comes
out of water, and your bow swings around until there is imminent
danger of an accidental jibe.

Heck, who managed our sloop, was a fairly good sailor, but as the wind
increased, the darkness thickened, and the sea grew higher and higher,
it became evident to me that nothing but unusually good luck would
enable us to reach the ship in safety. We were not shipping any water,
except now and then a bucketful of foam and spray blown from the crest
of a wave; but the boat was yawing in a very dangerous way as she
mounted the high, white-capped rollers, and I was afraid that sooner
or later she would swing around so far that even with the most skilful
steering a jibe would be inevitable.

It was very dark; I had lost sight of the land; and I don't know
exactly in what part of the gulf we were when the dreaded catastrophe
came. The sloop rose on the back of an exceptionally high, combing
sea, hung poised for an instant on its crest, and then, with a wide
yaw to starboard which the rudder was powerless to check, swooped down
sidewise into the hollow, rolling heavily to port and pointing her
boom high up into the gale. When I saw the dark outline of the leech
of the mainsail waver for an instant, flap once or twice, and then
suddenly collapse, I knew what was coming, and shouting at the top of
my voice, "Look out Heck! She'll jibe!" I instinctively threw myself
into the bottom of the boat to escape the boom. With a quick, sudden
rush, ending in a great crash, the long heavy spar swept across the
boat from starboard to port, knocking Bowsher overboard and carrying
away the mast. The sloop swung around into the trough of the sea, in a
tangle of sails, sheets, halyards, and standing rigging; and the next
great comber came plump into her, filling her almost to the gunwales
with a white smother of foam. I thought for a moment that she had
swamped and was sinking; but as I rose to a crouching posture and
rubbed the saltwater out of my eyes, I saw that she was less than half
full, and that if we did not ship another sea too soon, prompt and
energetic bailing might yet keep her afloat.

"Bail her out, boys! For your lives! With your hats!" I shouted: and
began scooping out the water with my fur hood.

Eight men bailing for life, even with hats and caps, can throw a great
deal of