"It shall be done," cried Griffith, seizing the trumpet from the hand of
the pilot.

The orders of the lieutenant were executed almost as soon as issued;
and, everything being ready, the enormous folds of the mainsail were
trusted loose to the blast. There was an instant when the result was
doubtful; the tremendous threshing of the heavy sail seemed to bid
defiance to all restraint, shaking the ship to her centre; but art and
strength prevailed, and gradually the canvas was distended, and bellying
as it filled, was drawn down to its usual place by the power of a
hundred men. The vessel yielded to this immense addition of force, and
bowed before it like a reed bending to a breeze. But the success of the
measure was announced by a joyful cry from the stranger, that seemed to
burst from his inmost soul.

"She feels it! she springs her luff! observe," he said, "the light opens
from the hummock already: if she will only bear her canvas we shall go
clear."

A report, like that of a cannon, interrupted his exclamation, and
something resembling a white cloud was seen drifting before the wind
from the head of the ship, till it was driven into the gloom far to
leeward.

"'Tis the jib, blown from the bolt-ropes," said the commander of the
frigate. "This is no time to spread light duck--but the mainsail may
stand it yet."

"The sail would laugh at a tornado," returned the lieutenant; "but the
mast springs like a piece of steel."