- end_line
- 2118
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.149Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2093
- text
- windlass, where it stranded. The water then poured along the deck like
a flood rolling over and over, pots, pans, and kettles, and even old
Baltimore himself, who went breaching along like a porpoise.
Striking the taffrail, the wave subsided, and washing from side to
side, left the drowning cook high and dry on the after-hatch: his
extinguished pipe still between his teeth, and almost bitten in two.
The few men on deck having sprung into the main-rigging, sailor-like,
did nothing but roar at his calamity.
The same night, our flying-jib-boom snapped off like a pipe-stem, and
our spanker-gaff came down by the run.
By the following morning, the wind in a great measure had gone down;
the sea with it; and by noon we had repaired our damages as well as we
could, and were sailing along as pleasantly as ever.
But there was no help for the demolished bulwarks; we had nothing to
replace them; and so, whenever it breezed again, our dauntless craft
went along with her splintered prow dripping, but kicking up her fleet
heels just as high as before.
- title
- Chunk 2