)[1]-- ``Hoist away the
top-gallant yards!''-- ``Run up the flying-jib!''-- ``Lay aloft,
you boys, and loose the royals!'' and all sail is on her again
before she is fairly out of the squall; and she is going on in her
course. The sun comes out once more, hotter than ever, dries up
the decks and the sailors' clothes; the hatches are taken off; the
sail got up and spread on the quarter-deck; spun-yarn winch set a
whirling again; rigging coiled up; captain goes below; and every
sign of an interruption disappears.
These scenes, with occasional dead calms, lasting for hours, and
sometimes for days, are fair specimens of the Atlantic tropics.
The nights were fine; and as we had all hands all day, the watch
were allowed to sleep on deck at night, except the man at the
wheel, and one lookout on the forecastle. This was not so much
expressly allowed as winked at. We could do it if we did not ask
leave. If the lookout was caught napping, the whole watch was kept
awake. We made the most of this permission, and stowed ourselves
away upon the rigging, under the weather rail, on the spars, under
the windlass, and in all the snug corners; and frequently slept
out the watch, unless we had a wheel or a lookout.
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