Meantime the southeaster, dead ahead and blowing harder every minute, was sending its seas further and further aft.  He left his wet berth on the deck, reeled, or rather was flung, to the stern of the vessel, lodged himself between the little wheel-house and the taffrail, and watched a scene in consonance with his feelings.  Innumerable twinklings of stars faintly illuminated a cloudless, serene heaven, and a foaming, plunging ocean.  The slender, dark outlines of the sailless upper masts were leaning sharply over to leeward, and describing what seemed like mystic circles and figures against the lighter sky.  The crests of seas showed with ghostly whiteness as they howled themselves to death near by, or dashed with a jar and a hoarse whistle over the bulwarks, slapping against the sails and pounding upon the decks.  The waves which struck the bows every few seconds gave forth sounds like the strokes of Thor’s hammer, and made everything tremble from cathead to stempost.

Every now and then there were hoarse orders from the captain on the quarter-deck, echoed instantly by sharp yells from the mate in the waist.  Now it was, “Lay aloft and furl the fore royal;” and ten minutes later, “Lay aloft and furl the main royal.”  Scarcely was this work done before the shout came, “Lay aloft and reef the fore-t’gallant-s’l;” followed almost immediately by “Lay aloft and reef the main-t’gallant-s’l.”  Next came, “Lay out forrard and furl the flying jib.”  Each command was succeeded by a silent, dark darting of men into the rigging, and presently a trampling on deck and a short, sharp singing out at the ropes, with cries from aloft of “Haul out to leeward; taut hand; knot away.”

Under the reduced sail the brig went easier for a while; but the half gale had made up its mind to be a hurricane.  It was blowing more savagely every second.  One after another the topgallant sails were double-reefed, close-reefed, and at last furled.  The watch on deck had its hands full to accomplish this work, so powerfully did the wind drag on the canvas.  Presently, far away forward—­it seemed on board some other craft, so faint was the sound—­there came a bang, bang, bang! on the scuttle of the forecastle, and a hollow shout of “All hands reef tops’ls ahoy!”

Up tumbled the “starbowlines,” or starboard watch, and joined the “larbowlines” in the struggle with the elements.  No more sleep that night for man, boy, mate, or master.  Reef after reef was taken in the topsails, until they were two long, narrow shingles of canvas, and still the wind brought the vessel well down on her beam ends, as if it would squeeze her by main force under water.  The men were scarcely on deck from their last reefing job, when boom! went the jib, bursting out as if shot from a cannon, and then whipping itself to tatters.

“Lay out forrard!” screamed the mate.  “Lay out and furl it.”