“Ay, sir, you can drive her at almost any speed,” answered the mate.  “She’s like a mettled courser, sir, and loves the fleet track.”

“Scud while you can, Mr. Faulkner, it’s a true nautical rule.  Some men will always heave a ship to if there is a cap fill of—­”

“Double-reef the mainsail!” shouted the captain, interrupting himself, to give an order that he saw was imperative.

“—­Wind, but I believe in scudding, if you can,” he added.

“Double-reef foretopsail! and look ye, Mr. Faulkner, have presenter sheets bent on the foresail, this wind is in earnest,” said his superior, more seriously, as he jumped into the mizzen shrouds and scanned the sea to windward again.

The gale still increased, and everything being now made snug on board the “Sea Witch,” she was run before it with almost incredible speed.  It would have been a study to have regarded the calm self-possession and complete coolness of the young commander during this startling gale; he never once left his post, every inch of the vessel seemed under his eye, and not the least trifle of duty was for a moment forgotten.  If possible, he was more particular than usual that his orders in the smallest item were strictly observed, and thus with his iron will and strong intelligence he mastered every contingency of the hour, imparting that indispensable confidence among his people so requisite to perfect control.  There was a firmness now expressed in the compressed lips, and a sternness in the eye, that had not before been manifested, while there was a breathing of authority in his smallest order.

In an instant more the scene was changed!  With terrific violence the vessel flew up in the wind with the rapidity of thought, and a report like that of a score of cannons fired at the same moment, was heard above the roar of the winds.

“What lubberly trick is this?” shouted the captain, fiercely, to the old tar who held his station at the wheel, and on whose faithfulness everything depended.

“The wheel rope has parted on the larboard side, your honor,” was the reply.

“That is no man’s fault,” said his commander.  “Bear a hand here, Mr. Faulkner, and bend on a fresh wheel rope.  Be lively; sir, be lively!”

The sails had been blown from the bolt-ropes, in an instant of time, and the vessel now lay wallowing in the sea.  Now once more was seen the power of discipline and the coolness of the young commander, whose word was law in that floating community.  Fifty voices were raised in shouts above the storm, suggesting this expedient and that, but that agile figure, which we have already described, sprang lightly into the mizzen shrouds, and with a voice that was heard by every soul on board the “Sea Witch,” shouted sternly: 

“Silence in the ship!”

Not a voice was heard, and every man quietly awaited his order, looking abashed that there had been a tongue heard save his who had the right alone to speak.