We have lost our great masts, so we must
put up jury-masts, as we call them; that is, little ones, and little
sails upon them; and, if it pleases God, we shall see Sydney yet. How
is Madam, sir?" continued Ready to Mr. Seagrave. "Is she better?"
"I fear she is very weak and ill," replied Mr. Seagrave; "nothing but
fine weather will do her any good. Do you think that it will be fine
now?"
"Why, sir, to tell you the truth, I fear we shall have more of it yet:
I have not given my thoughts to the captain, as I might be mistaken;
but still I think so - I've not been fifty years at sea without
learning something. I don't like the gathering of that bank there, Mr.
Seagrave, and I shouldn't wonder if it were to blow again from the very
same quarter, and that before dark."
"God's will be done," replied Mr. Seagrave, "but I am very fearful
about my poor wife, who is worn to a shadow."
"I shouldn't think so much about that, sir, as I really never knew of
people dying that way, although they suffer much. William, do you know
that we have lost some of our men since you were down below?"
"No - I heard the steward say something outside about the foremast.
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