for all hands the men tumbled out, looking around to see what had
happened. It was dead still, and the only sounds were the cries of the
men on deck to those aloft, and the rattling of gear. Trunnell was on
deck in a moment, and as he rushed aft I went for the main rigging with
the intention of saving the upper topsail if I could. It was quick work
getting up those ratlines, but even as I went I heard a deepening murmur
from the southward. The yard came down by the run as I gained the top,
owing to Trunnell having cast off everything, trusting that we might get
some stops on the sail before too late. I heard the skipper roaring out
orders to "hurry there," followed by curses at the slowness of the work.
He appeared to realize now what was happening, and it sobered him.

As I crawled out to starboard with a couple of hands, Jackson of
Trunnell's watch and Davis of mine, the murmur to the southward swelled
rapidly in volume. I glanced into the blackness, and as I did so there
was a blinding flash. My eyes seemed to be burned out with the
brightness, and a crashing roar thundered in my ears. Instantly afterward
I heard Trunnell's voice:--

"Hard up the wheel. Hard up, for God's sake!"

Then, with a rush that made the mast creak with the strain and laid
us slowly over amid a thunder of thrashing canvas, the hurricane
struck the ship.

There was nothing to do but hold on with both hands and feet. Jackson,
who was outside of me, gripped the jackstay and threw his feet around
the yard-arm which was springing and jumping away at a terrific rate
with the shock of the cracking topsail. I did likewise, and noticed
that the canvas was bellying forward, which showed that we were not