At this moment the tardy voice of the commander, long unwilling to lose any part of the fair wind, is at length heard, giving the reluctant order, “Turn the hands up, shorten sail!” The ready clatter of feet, and the show of many heads at all the hatchways, and perhaps the sound of a suppressed laugh amongst the men who have been gossiping and wagering about the gale, give sufficient indication that this evolution has been expected for some time.

“All hands shorten sail!” calls out the boatswain, after a louder and sharper note than usual from his pipe, winded not half the ordinary length of time, though twice as shrilly; for his object is to mark on the ears of the people the necessity of unusual expedition and exertion.  A clever and experienced person filling this important situation will soon teach the men to distinguish between the various notes of his call, though to unpractised ears the sounds might appear unvaried.

“Shorten sail! that’s easier said than done,” growls forth some hard-up old cock.

“No! not a bit easier said than done,” unexpectedly observes the captain, but quite good-humouredly, having accidentally heard the seaman’s remark.  “Not a bit, old fellow, if you and the young hands only work as smartly and cheerfully as I know you can do when you have a mind.  Come, my lads, are you all ready forward?”

It is a trying moment both for the sails and yards, when the order is actually given to commence shortening sail; if the pressure from the wind be considerable, it is necessary to have men stationed to lower away the haulyards and ease off the tacks at the proper moment, while others gather in the sails as they come down, fluttering a little perhaps, if not carefully managed, but still quietly and easily, as well as quickly.  When, however, the wind has risen to a pitch beyond its due proportion to the canvas spread, and the captain’s anxiety to make the most of a fair wind has tempted him to carry on too long, the case becomes very difficult, the ropes which keep the sails in their places contributing also an important share to the support of those spars to which the sails are bent, or to which they may be hauled out.  Consequently, the moment the ropes alluded to, which are technically named the haulyards and tacks, are slackened, the yards and booms, being suddenly deprived of these material supports, are very apt to be sprung, that is, cracked across, or even carried away, which means being snapped right in two as short as a carrot, to use Jack’s very appropriate simile.

It is quite true, that lowering away the sail and easing off the tack of a studding-sail does diminish the pressure of the sail on the spar, and, of course, both the yard and the boom have less duty to perform.  Still, the moment which succeeds the order to “Lower away!” is especially trying to the nerves of the officer who is carrying on the duty.  I have not unfrequently seen comparatively young officers