The immense volume of water thrown forward
by the last scend of the ship had burst the lee door of the forecastle.
They could see their chests, pillows, blankets, clothing, come out
floating upon the sea. While they struggled back to windward they
looked in dismay. The straw beds swam high, the blankets, spread out,
undulated; while the chests, waterlogged and with a heavy list, pitched
heavily like dismasted hulks, before they sank; Archie's big coat passed
with outspread arms, resembling a drowned seaman floating with his head
under water. Men were slipping down while trying to dig their fingers
into the planks; others, jammed in corners, rolled enormous eyes. They
all yelled unceasingly:--"The masts! Cut! Cut!..." A black squall howled
low over the ship, that lay on her side with the weather yard-arms
pointing to the clouds; while the tall masts, inclined nearly to the
horizon, seemed to be of an immeasurable length. The carpenter let go
his hold, rolled against the skylight, and began to crawl to the cabin
entrance, where a big axe was kept ready for just such an emergency.
At that moment the topsail sheet parted, the end of the heavy chain
racketed aloft, and sparks of red fire streamed down through the flying
sprays.
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