"I tell you, it is not a subject for joking on. Perhaps poor Bobby
Smudge had a mother and sisters who will mourn bitterly when the ship
returns home, and they find he is not in her."

"Dirty drabs, in all probability, who won't care a rap what has become
of him," persisted the incorrigible Dicky.

"For shame, Sharpe--for shame," said I; thinking how my cousins would
grieve for me if I were to be lost overboard. I began to feel a strange
sort of satisfaction at the idea. Sentiment, or whatever it might be
called, was very quickly put to flight by the shrill sound of the
boatswain's whistle, and the hoarse cry of "All hands--shorten sail!"

We were hurrying to our stations aloft as fast as our legs could carry
us--for the tones in which the order was issued showed us that there was
not a moment to be lost,--when, just as we were springing into the
rigging, a squall, which had but the moment before been perceived by the
officers of the watch, struck the ship. As ill-luck would have it, it
was the third lieutenant who had the first watch, and he happened to be
in a poetical mood, and deeply absorbed in composing an ode to Queen
Dido, or the Dodo--I don't remember which it was reported was the case--
one or the other, I know. The squall was a very heavy one: if not a
white squall, not inferior to it in strength and suddenness. The ship
rushed through the water, which was lashed in an instant into a sheet of
foam; the masts bent like wands, and looked as if they would instantly
go by the board. The helm was ordered to be put up; but before she
could answer it--stiff as she generally was--over she went, as if she
had been a mere skiff, till her yard-arms almost touched the water. It
appeared as if she would never right herself again. Then many a stout
heart quailed, and many a brave man gave himself up for lost; but,
dreadful as was the scene, discipline triumphed speedily over all
unworthy fears. Some of the ports were open, and the water rushed
through them in torrents. Such was the case with the one in our berth.
Poor Signor Mezzi, our Italian master, was sitting there. Never was a
poor wretch more completely horrified. He gave up all for lost, and
fancied that every moment the ship, and all in her, were going to the
bottom. The assistant-surgeon and captain's clerk, who were at the time
in the berth, each seized a pillow from the hammocks, which had just
before been piped down, and cramming them into the