meet the altered position of the
ship. They must then be hauled taut again, and belayed, or secured, in
order to keep the sails in their place and to prevent them from shaking.
When the ship's head comes up in the wind, the sail is for a moment or two
edgewise to it, and then is the nice moment, as soon as the head-sails
fairly fill, when the main-yard and the yards above it can be swung
readily, and the tacks and sheets hauled in. If the crew are too few in
number, or too slow at their work, and the sails get fairly filled on the
new tack, it is a fatiguing piece of work enough to "board" the tacks and
sheets, as it is called. You are pulling at one end of the rope, but the
gale is tugging at the other. The advantages of lungs are all against you,
and perhaps the only thing to be done is to put the helm down a little,
and set the sails shaking again before they can be trimmed properly.--It
was just at such a time that I came on deck, as above mentioned. Being
near eight bells, the watch on deck had been not over spry; and the
consequence was that our big main-course was slatting and flying out
overhead with a might that shook the ship from stem to stern. The flaps of
the mad canvas were like successive thumps of a giant's fist upon a mighty
drum. The sheets were jerking at the belaying-pins, the blocks rattling in
sharp snappings like castanets. You could hear the hiss and seething of
the sea alongside, and see it flash by in sudden white patches of
phosphorescent foam, while all overhead was black with the flying scud.
The English second-mate was stamping with vexation, and, with all his
ills misplaced, storming at the men:--"'An'somely the weather main-
brace,--'an'somely, I tell you!--'Alf a dozen of you clap on to the main
sheet here,--down with 'im!--D'y'see 'ere's hall like a midshipman's
bag,--heverythink huppermost and nothing 'andy.--'Aul 'im in, Hi say!"
--But the sail wouldn't come, though. All the most forcible expressions of
the Commination-Service were liberally bestowed on the watch. "Give us
the song, men!" sang out the mate, at last,--"pull with a will!
--together, men!--haltogether now!"--And then a cracked, melancholy voice
struck up this chant:

"Oh, the bowline, bully bully bowline,
Oh, the bowline, bowline, HAUL!"

At the last word every man threw his whole strength into the pull,--all
singing it in chorus, with a quick, explosive sound. And so, jump by jump,
the sheet was at last hauled taut