at him,
while Joe Fergusson worked his way out to the end of the weather yard-
arm, fighting the fierce gusts at every sliding step he took.

Then, when all were at their posts, Tim gave some sort of signal to the
four others whom he allowed to go up with him, and at the same instant
the gaskets were severed, parties of men below slacking off the
clewlines and pulling on the sheets by degrees. By this means the
foresail, having been double-reefed fortunately before being furled, was
set satisfactorily, without a split as all of us below expected, the
hands getting down from the yards while we were yet hauling the tack
aboard.

The effect of this additional sail power on the ship was magical,
lifting her bows out of the water and making her plunge madly through
the billowy ocean, now all covered with foam and spume, like a maddened
horse taking the bit between his teeth and bolting.

"She wants some after sail to steady her," roared the captain bending
over the poop rail, although he held on tightly enough to it the while,
and calling out to Mr Mackay, who remained with me just below him on
the main-deck. "We must try and get some sort of rag up."

Mr Mackay made a motion up at the fragments of the main trysail, which,
it may be remembered, had been carried away by the first blast of the
typhoon.

"Aye," roared back "Old Jock," understanding him, and knowing that if
the first mate had spoken he couldn't have heard a word he said, from
the fact of the wind blowing forward. "I know it's gone, but try a
staysail."

"Bedad, he bates Bannagher!" said Tim Rooney, who had returned aft and
joined Mr Mackay and I under the break of the poop, where we were
sheltered more from the force of the gale. "I niver did say sich a chap
for carryin' on, fair weather an' foul, loike `Ould Jock Sayins an'
Mayins.' Sure, he wants to be there afore himsilf!"

"We must rig up a storm staysail, I suppose," replied Mr Mackay,
smiling at the other's remark. "Try one on the mizzen staysail--the
smallest you've got. Ask Adams, he'll soon find one; and, mind you,
send it up `wift' fashion, so as to lessen the risk of its getting blown
away, bosun."

"Aye, aye, sorr," said Tim, opening his eyes at this expedient of
hoisting a sail like a pilot's signal, and starting to work his way
forward again along the weather side of the deck. "Begorra, you're the
boy, sure, Misther Mackay, for sayin' through a stone hidge as well as
most folk!"