By this time, we had gained four miles off shore, and it was evident that the soundings indicated our approach to the bank.  Tackles were rove and stretched along forward of the windlass, as well as deck-stoppers hooked on to the ringbolts fore and aft.  “Loose the fore-topsail!” shouted Captain G., “we must reach this bank before the tide turns, or, by morning, there will not be left a timber head of this ship, nor one of us, to tell the sad tale of our disaster.”  The topsail was loosed and set, and the ship groaned heavily under the immense pressure of canvass; her lee rail was under water, and every moment it was expected that the topmast or the canvass would yield.  The deep-sea-lead was taken forward and hove:  when the line reached the after-part of the main channels, the seaman’s voice rose high in the air, “By the deep, nine!” It was three o’clock.  “Clew up and furl the fore-topsail!” shouted Captain G. The topsail furled of itself, for the moment the weather sheet was started, it blew away from the bolt-rope; the foresail was immediately hauled up and furled.  Relieved from the great pressure of canvass, and having now nothing on her except the main-topsail and fore-topmast-staysail, she rode more upright.  The main-topsail was clewed up and fortunately saved, the mizzen-staysail was set.  “Stand by, to cut away the stoppers of the best bower anchor—­to let it go, stock and fluke,” said Captain G.  “Man the fore-topmast-staysail down-haul; put your helm down! haul down the staysail.”  This was done, and the ship came up handsomely, head to wind, “See the cable tiers all clear—­what water is there?” said Captain G. The leadsman sang out in a clear voice, “And a half-eight!” By this time, the ship had lost her way.  “Are you all clear forward there?” “Ay, ay, sir!” was the reply.  “Stream the buoy, and let go the anchor!” shouted Captain G. The order was executed as rapidly as it was given; the anchor was on the bottom, and already had fifty fathoms of cable run out, making the windlass smoke; and, although the cable was weather-bitted, and every effort was made with the deck-stoppers and tackles to check her, all was fruitless.  Ninety fathoms of cable had run out.  “Stand by, to let go the larboard anchor,” said Captain G.; “Cheerily, men—­let go!” In the same breath he shouted, “Hold on!” for just then there was a lull, and having run out the best bower-cable, nearly to the better end, she brought up.  No time was now lost in getting service on the cable, to prevent its chafing.  She was now riding to a single anchor of two thousand weight, with one hundred fathoms of a seventeen-inch hemp cable.  The sea rolled heavily, and broke in upon the deck fore and aft; the lower yards were got down; the topsail-yards pointed to the wind; and as the tide had now turned, the ship rode without any strain on her cable, because it tended broad on the beam.