watch--Sommers kept looking anxiously round the horizon, especially to
the southward, where I observed some dark clouds banking up. As I
watched them, they seemed suddenly to take it into their heads to roll
rapidly onward, and down they bore upon us like a flock of sheep
scouring over the downs. "All hands shorten sail," shouted Sommers.
"Stafford. Rushforth, aloft lads, and furl the fore-topgallantsail."
Up we sprang into the rigging. As yet the breeze was very light, and
there was no difficulty in what we had to do, but a few minutes' delay
might make the task impracticable. Dickey was spirited enough in
reality. We lay along on the yard, and had begun to haul the sail,
when, as I was stretching over to get a hold of the canvas to gather it
up, I lost my balance, and over I went head first. I heard a shriek.
It was from Dickey. He thought I should be killed. So should I, if I
had had time to think about the matter; but providentially at that
moment a sudden puff of wind bulged out the foretopsail to its utmost
extent, and I striking it at the moment, away it sent me, as from a
catapult, right over the bows, clear of the vessel. Had I struck the
deck or bulwarks I should have been killed. I sank, but quickly coming
to the surface, looked about me with very little hope of being saved,
for there was the schooner flying on before the fast-increasing gale;
and as I knew full well, with so few seamen on board, that it would take
some time to put about to come to my relief. All this flashed rapidly
through my mind. Farther and farther away flew the schooner, still I
determined not to give in. I could swim pretty well, and I managed to
throw off my jacket and kick off my shoes, and as only a thin pair of
trousers and a shirt remained, I had no difficulty in keeping myself
above water; but the knowledge that sharks abounded in those seas, and
that any moment one of those horrid monsters might catch hold of my leg
and haul me down, gave me very unpleasant sensations. I watched the
receding vessel--moments seemed hours. There was no sign of her putting
about. I at length was about to give way to despair, when my eye fell
on an object floating between her and me. It was of some size--a
grating I concluded--and I made out a black ball on the other side of
it. The grating was moving towards me. I struck out to make it, and
then I saw that it was pushed by a negro. "Keep up, Massa Pringle, keep
up," said a voic