On deck the watch were shortening sail. The topgallants had already been furled and now the topsails were being reefed. Clapping his hand to his hat and drawing it down hard on his head, Frey stared aloft. The main topsail yard had been clewed down and the slack upper portion of the sail drawn up to the yard-arms by the reefing tackles. The windward topman was astride the extremity of the yard, hauling the second reef earing up as hard as he could, while his fellow yard-men strove to assist by hauling on the reef points as the big sail flogged and billowed.
Lieutenant Marlowe stood forward of the binnacle with a speaking trumpet to his mouth.
'Jump to it, you lubbers!' he was shrieking, though it was clear the men were working as rapidly as was possible. The unnecessary nature of Marlowe's intervention confirmed Frey's revised opinion of the first lieutenant.
Since Frey had last been on deck the weather had taken a turn for the worse. A quick glance over the starboard bow showed the white buttress of the Isle of Wight lying athwart their hawse with a menacing proximity as the backing wind drove them into the bight of Sandown Bay. The reason for Marlowe's anxiety was now clear: he had left the reefing too late, giving insufficient time for the men to complete their task before they must tack the ship. To the north-west, several ships lay at anchor in St Helen's road, while in the distance beyond, a dense clutter of masts and yards showed where the bulk of the Channel Fleet, withdrawn from blockade duties off Ushant, lay once more in the safe anchorage of Spithead. It would be a fine thing, Frey thought, for Andromeda to pile herself up at the foot of Culver Cliff within sight of such company!
Frey strode aft, took a quick look at the compass, gauged the wind from the tell-tale streaming above the windward hammock irons, and then stared at the land. Dunnose Head was stretching out on the larboard bow, and Culver Cliff loomed ever closer above the starboard fore chains, its unchanged bearing an ominous and certain precursor of disaster.
Beside Frey the quartermaster and helmsmen were muttering apprehensively and Frey's own pulse began to race. The seamen coming on deck to take over the watch were milling in the waist. The experienced among them quickly sensed something was wrong. The wind note rose suddenly and to windward the sea turned a silver-white as the squall screamed down upon the ship. For a split second Frey's artistic sensibilities compelled him to watch the phenomenon which looked like nothing so much as the devil's claw-marks raking the surface of the sea.
Midshipman Dunn came running up to Marlowe. 'Captain's just coming on deck, sir.'
Marlowe ignored the boy and continued shouting at the men aloft who were now struggling hard to tame the main topsail. Frey could not see the fore-topsail, but presumed the worst. Frey heard Marlowe's next order with disbelief.
'Aloft there! Leggo those pendants! Let fly the reef-tackles! Standby the yard lifts! Haul away those lifts!' The men stationed at the lifts hesitated and Marlowe leaned forward and screamed at them: 'Haul away, you idle buggers! Haul!' Then the first lieutenant, a curious, pleading expression on his face, turned towards Frey and the men at the wheels, as though explaining his action. 'We'll reef after we've tacked.'
But he received no consoling approval. Aloft they had no such appreciation of Marlowe's intentions. The men at the lifts jerked the yards and they began to slew in the wind. The men on the footropes rocked and three at the bunt of the sail let their reef points go, while someone else started the weather reef-tackle so that the topsail shivered in the squall.
The violent movement of yard and sail was sufficient to unbalance the man astride the larboard main yard-arm. He lost his grip of the reef pendant, which streamed almost horizontally away to leeward; then he slipped sideways and fell. He made a futile grab at the loose pendant, but the wind snatched it from him. The next man on the yard tried to seize him, but it was too late. With a cry, the unfortunate seaman fell with a sickening thud at the feet of Captain Drinkwater as he came on deck.
Frey saw the whole thing happen: saw the topman slip and fall, saw Marlowe seek justification for his action and saw him fail to realize what was happening until the body fell to the deck. He saw, too, the look of horror that passed over Drinkwater's face as he came on deck, then saw the captain suddenly galvanized into action, cross the deck, swing forward and take in the whole shambles in a second. Without a speaking trumpet, Drinkwater roared his orders and took instant command of the deck.
'All hands!'
The horrified inertia of the ship's company was swept aside, as Drinkwater called them all to the greater duty of saving the ship.
'All hands about ship and reef topsails in one!'
The pipes of the boatswain and his mates shrilled and the order sent men to their stations; those already aloft crowded back along the footropes and into the tops. Drinkwater moved smartly across the deck as the men rushed to their positions; ropes were turned off pin rails; lines of men backed up the leading hands as they prepared to clew down the topsail yards again and man the larboard braces. While others stood ready to cast off the lifts and starboard braces, Hyde's marines tramped up from the gun-deck and cleared away the mizen gear.
'Mr Dunn,' Frey called as he ran to his post. 'Take two men and get that poor fellow below to the surgeon.'
Frey took one last look at Culver Cliff. It seemed to loom as high as the main yard.
'Down helm.' Drinkwater stood beside the wheel as the quartermaster had the helm put over and Andromeda turned slowly into the wind. There was a touch less sea running now as they rapidly closed the shore where they were scraping a lee from Dunnose Head at the far and windward end of the bay. As the frigate came head to wind, the sails began to shiver and then come aback.
'Mains'l haul!' Drinkwater roared.
'Clew down! Haul the reef tackles! Haul buntlines!'
The main and mizen yards, their sails slack and blanketed by the sails on the foremast, were hauled round by their braces, ready for the new tack.
'Trice up and lay out!''
With Drinkwater's bellowing acting as a noisy yet curiously effective tranquillizer imposing order on momentary confusion, the topmen resumed their positions, a new man occupying the larboard main topsail yard-arm. Andromeda bucked into the head sea, her rate of turn slowed almost to a stop. Aloft, the frantic activity of the frigate's competent crew paid off. This fruit of hard service off Norway and Their Lordships' solicitude for a foreign king, which had drafted some of Chatham's best seamen into Andromeda to replace her losses, had the topsails double reefed in a few minutes. As the ship continued her slow turn, the wind caught the foreyards fully aback, suddenly accelerating the rate of turn. Drinkwater strode along the starboard gangway the better to see the fore-topsail, but Frey had already run forward and pre-empted him, to wave in silent acknowledgement that all was well.
'Stand by halliards!' Drinkwater waited for a moment longer, then gave the final command: 'Let go and haul all!'
Round came the yards on the foremast and the reefed and thundering topsail was trimmed parallel to those already braced on the main and mizen masts. On the forecastle the headsail sheets were shifted, hauled aft and belayed while the braces amidships were turned up and their falls coiled down neatly on the pins.
'Lay in! Stand by booms! Down booms!'
Order reasserted itself aloft. The men began to come down.
'Man the halliards! Tend the braces and hoist away!''