In the meantime she lay dead, her lee yardarms almost touching the
sea, the sea creaming solidly to her hatch-combings across the
buried, unseen rail.
The minutes were as centuries, until the bow paid off and the
Elsinore, turned tail before it, righted to an even keel.
Immediately this was accomplished Captain West had her brought back
upon the wind. And immediately, thereupon, the big foresail went
adrift from its gaskets. The shock, or succession of shocks, to the
ship, from the tremendous buffeting that followed, was fearful. It
seemed she was being racked to pieces. Master and mate were side by
side when this happened, and the expressions on their faces typified
them. In neither face was apprehension. Mr. Pike's face bore a sour
sneer for the worthless sailors who had botched the job. Captain
West's face was serenely considerative.
Still, nothing was to be done, could be done; and for five minutes
the Elsinore was shaken as in the maw of some gigantic monster, until
the last shreds of the great piece of canvas had been torn away.
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