a suspense that involved life and death.

"Keep her dead away!" added the calm but authoritative voice of the young
commander. "Stand by to furl the fore-top-sail--let it hang a moment to
drag the ship clear of the wreck--cut, cut--cheerily, men--hatchets and
knives--cut _with_ all, and cut _off_ all!"

As the men now worked with the vigour of hope, the ropes that still
confined the fallen spars to the vessel were quickly severed; and the
_Caroline_, by this time dead before the gale, appeared barely to touch
the foam that covered the sea. The wind came over the waste in gusts
that rumbled like distant thunder, and with a power that seemed to
threaten to lift the ship from its proper element. As a prudent and
sagacious seaman had let fly the halyards, of the solitary sail that
remained, at the moment the squall approached, the loosened but lowered
topsail was now distended in a manner that threatened to drag after it
the only mast which still stood. Wilder saw the necessity of getting rid
of the sail, and he also saw the utter impossibility of securing it.
Calling Earing to his side, he pointed out the danger, and gave the
necessary order.

"The spar cannot stand such shocks much longer," he concluded; "should it
go over the bows, some fatal blow might be given to the ship at the rate
she is moving. A man or two must be sent aloft to cut the sail from the
yards."

"The stick is bending like a willow whip," returned the mate, "and the
lower mast itself is sprung. There would be great danger in trusting a
hand in that top, while these wild squalls are breathing around us."