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Tom Cringle's Log by Michael Scott
page 85 of 773 (10%)
comfort was glad to conform to the contraction of the muscle, whereby I
once more staved along the deck, glowering up into the heavens, as if I
had seen some wonderful sight there.

"What do you see aloft?" repeated Mr Treenail, while the crew, greatly
puzzled, continued to follow my eye, as they thought, and to stare up into
the rigging.

"Why, sir, I have thereby got a stiff neck--that's all, sir."

"Go and turn in at once, my good boy--make haste, now--tell our steward to
give you a glass of hot grog, and mind your hand that you don't get sick."

I did as I was desired, swallowed the grog, and turned in; but I could not
have been in bed above an hour, when the drum beat to quarters, and I had
once more to bundle out on the cold wet deck, where I found all excitement.
At the time I speak of, we had been beaten by the Americans in several
actions of single ships, and our discipline had improved in proportion as
we came to learn by sad experience that the enemy was not to be
undervalued. I found that there was a ship in sight, right a--head of us
apparently carrying all sail. A group of officers were on the forecastle
with night--glasses, the whole crew being stationed in dark clusters round
the guns at quarters. Several of the American skippers were forward
amongst us, and they were of opinion that the chase was a man--of--war,
although our own people seemed to doubt this. One of the skippers
insisted that she was the Hornet, from the unusual shortness of her lower
masts, and the immense squareness of her yards. But the puzzle was, if it
were the Hornet, why she did not shorten sail. Still this might be
accounted for, by her either wishing to make out what we were before she
engaged us, or she might be clearing for action. At this moment a whole
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