Mulford then regained all his powers. He sprang
to the fore-sheet, calling on the others for aid.
The violent surges produced by the wind prevented
his grasping the sheet as soon as he could wish, and
the vessel whirled round on her heel, like a steed
that is frightened. At that critical and dangerous
instant, when the schooner was nearly without motion
through the water, a squall struck the flattened sails,
and bowed her down as the willow bends to the gale.
Mrs. Budd and Biddy screamed as usual, and Jack shouted
until his voice seemed cracked, to “let go the
head-sheets.” Mulford did make one leap
forward, to execute this necessary office, when the
inclining plane of the deck told him it was too late.
The wind fairly howled for a minute, and over went
the schooner, the remains of her cargo shifting as
she capsized, in a way to bring her very nearly bottom
upward.
1. We suppress the names used by Mrs. Budd, out
of delicacy to the individuals mentioned, who are
still living.
Ay, fare you well, fair gentleman.
As You Like it.
While the tyro believes the vessel is about to capsize
at every puff of wind, the practised seaman alone
knows when danger truly besets him in this particular
form. Thus it was with Harry Mulford, when the
Mexican schooner went over, as related in the close
of the preceding chapter. He felt no alarm until
the danger actually came. Then, indeed, no one
there was so quickly, or so thoroughly apprized of
what the result would be, and he directed all his exertions
to meet the exigency. While there was the smallest
hope of success, he did not lessen, in the least,
his endeavours to save the vessel; making almost superhuman
efforts to cast off the fore-sheet, so as to relieve
the schooner from the pressure of one of her sails.
But, no sooner did he hear the barrels in the hold
surging to leeward, and feel by the inclination of
the deck beneath his feet, that nothing could save
the craft, than he abandoned the sheet, and sprang
to the assistance of Rose. It was time he did;
for, having followed him into the vessel’s lee-waist,
she was the first to be submerged in the sea, and
would have been hopelessly drowned, but for Mulford’s
timely succour. Women might swim more readily
than men, and do so swim, in those portions of the
world where the laws of nature are not counteracted
by human conventions. Rose Budd, however, had
received the vicious education which civilized society
inflicts on her sex, and, as a matter of course, was
totally helpless in an element in which it was the
design of Divine Providence she should possess the
common means of sustaining herself, like every other
being endued with animal life. Not so with Mulford:
he swam with ease and force, and had no difficulty
in sustaining Rose until the schooner had settled
into her new berth, or in hauling her on the vessel’s
bottom immediately after.
