The wind had almost died
away, and the atmosphere seemed strangely oppressive. Captain Lane was
an old sea-dog and had witnessed many strange phenomena on the ocean;
but never had he seen a squall approach so singularly. It seemed to move
very slowly--a great black cloud, which looked intensely luminous
withal, and yet so dense and heavy, that an ordinary observer might have
mistaken it for one of the ordinary rain squalls encountered in the
tropics. Captain Lane consulted his barometer, and found it
falling rapidly.
"Clew the topsails up!" shouted the captain to the mate. "All hands lay
aloft and furl them!"
The order was quickly obeyed; and just as the sailors reached the deck,
the squall struck them. It did not come as it was expected; it had
worked up from the westward, but struck the _Ocean Star_ dead from the
South. In an instant they were over, nearly on their beam ends, and a
heavy sea rushed over the lee-rail, filling the deck.
"Hard up your helm!" shouted the captain, and, springing aft, he found
the helmsman jammed under the tiller, and the second mate vainly
endeavoring to heave it up. Taking hold with him, by their united
efforts they at last succeeded; and, after a moment's suspense, the
_Ocean Star_ slowly wore off before the wind and, rising out of the
water, shook herself like an affrighted spaniel and darted off with
fearful speed before the hurricane.
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