For
weeks, he saw that awful face every time he closed his eyes to sleep.
Two years on board the British frigate had made Fernando, Sukey and
Terrence tolerably fair sailors. Their hearts were never in the work,
and they often dreamed of escape from this life of slavery. Fernando, by
judicious attention to business, had never yet won the positive
displeasure of the officers. One day the boatswain's mates repeated the
commands at the hatchways:
"All hands tack ship, ahoy!"
It was just eight bells, noon, and, springing from his jacket, which he
had spread between the guns for a bed on the main deck, Fernando ran up
the ladders, and, as usual, seized hold of the main-brace which fifty
hands were streaming along forward. When "maintopsail haul!" was given
through the trumpet, he pulled at this brace with such heartiness and
good will, that he flattered himself he would gain the approval of the
grim captain himself; but something happened to be in the way aloft,
when the yards swung round, and a little confusion ensued. With anger on
his brow. Captain Snipes came forward to see what occasioned it. No one
to let go the weather-lift of the main-yard. The rope was cast off,
however, by a hand, and, the yards, unobstructed, came round. When the
last rope was coiled away, the captain asked the first lieutenant who it
might be that was stationed at the weather (then the starboard)
main-lift.
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