same pride of station as had urged him to the dangerous undertaking four
or five of the oldest mariners jumped upon the rattlings, to mount into
an air that apparently teemed with a hundred hurricanes.

"Lie down out of that fore-rigging," shouted Wilder, through a deck
trumpet; "lie down; all, but the mate, lie down!" His words were borne
past the inattentive ears of the excited and mortified followers of
Earing, but for once they failed of their effect. Each man was too
earnestly bent on his purpose to listen to the sounds of recall. In less
than a minute, the whole were scattered along the yards, prepared to obey
the signal of their officer. The mate cast a look about him; perceiving
that the time was comparatively favorable, he struck a blow upon the
large rope that confined one of the lower angles of the distended and
bursting sail to the yard. The effect was much the same as would be
produced by knocking away the key-stone of an ill-cemented arch. The
canvas broke from its fastenings with a loud explosion, and, for an
instant, it was seen sailing in the air ahead of the ship, as if it were
sustained on wings. The vessel rose on a sluggish wave--the lingering
remains of the former breeze--and settled heavily over the rolling surge,
borne down alike by its own weight and the renewed violence of the gusts.
At this critical instant, while the seamen aloft were still gazing in the
direction in which the little cloud of canvas had disappeared, a lanyard
of the lower rigging parted, with a crack that reached the ears of Wilder.

"Lie down!" he shouted wildly through his trumpet; "down by the
backstays; down for your lives; every man of you, down!"

A solitary individual profited by the warning gliding to the deck with
the velocity of the wind. But rope parted after rope, and the fatal
snapping of the wood followed. For a moment, the towering maze tottered,