"
The youthful lieutenant was recalled by these words to his duty, and
reluctantly turned his eyes away from the bloody spot on the waters,
which the busy frigate had already passed, to resume the command of the
vessel with a forced composure.
"He has cut some of our running-gear," said the master, whose eye had
never ceased to dwell on the spars and rigging of the ship; "and there's
a splinter out of the maintopmast that is big enough for a fid! He has
let daylight through some of our canvas too; but, taking it by-and-
large, the squall has gone over and little harm done. Didn't I hear
something said of Captain Munson getting jammed by a shot?"
"He is killed!" said Griffith, speaking in a voice that was yet husky
with horror--"he is dead, sir, and carried overboard; there is more need
that we forget not ourselves, in this crisis."
"Dead!" said Boltrope, suspending the operation of his active jaws for a
moment, in surprise; "and buried in a wet jacket! Well, it is lucky 'tis
no worse; for damme if I did not think every stick in the ship would
have been cut out of her!"
With this consolatory remark on his lips, the master walked slowly
forward, continuing his orders to repair the damages with a singleness
of purpose that rendered him, however uncouth as a friend, an invaluable
man in his station.
Griffith had not yet brought his mind to the calmness that was so
essential to discharge the duties which had thus suddenly and awfully
devolved on him, when his elbow was lightly touched by the Pilot, who
had drawn closer to his side.
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