ANCHORING. 3?9 



the old hands, " right alongside of that Chatnam 

 smack." (It is so dark that, do my best, I can 

 not make out even the rig of the vessel to which 

 my old friend so readily gives a " local habitation 

 and a name." 



Here we are down jib ! " and down it rattlei 

 without any trouble, as her head swings into the 

 wind. As her headway is deadened, "let go the 

 anchor ! " is the word, and a plash, and the rattle 

 of a few fathoms of cable tell us that we are fast 

 for the night. 



" Pay out cable, boys; a good scope, and let 

 her ride easy!" and the rest of us go aft and 

 haul down the enormous mainsail, the wet can- 

 vas of which feels as though made of stout wire. 

 It is soon furled up, and a lantern fastened in the 

 rigging, and then we make a general rush for the 

 cabin. Here wet clothes and boots are flung off 

 and thrown pell mell on deck, dry suits donned, 

 and then " one half" crawl into their bunks, while 

 the balance eat their suppers. 



Meanwhile we hear an incessant rattling of 

 Bails and plashing of anchors on every side of 

 us, while the wind whistles wildly through our 

 rigging, and the rain dashes fiercely against the 

 (skylight and deck overhead, increasing our com- 

 fort by reminding us of the sufferings we have 

 escaped. 



It is not until after supper that we begin to 

 think of the damages sustained in our persona 

 during the past day's work. And now rags, 



