"Ease your helm down gently to start with, quartermaster; we will sail her round as far as we can."  Then, keenly watching the behaviour of the ship as she swept up into the wind, he presently signed with his hand, "Hard down!" and cried through his trumpet, "Helm's a-lee!" whereupon the fore and fore staysail sheets were let go and overhauled.  Meanwhile a party of men on the poop had dragged the spankerboom as nearly amidships as they could get it.  Presently the square canvas was all a-shiver, slatting furiously and causing the ship to tremble to her keel.  "Raise tacks and sheets!" was the next order; and now came the critical moment and the question--Would she hold her way long enough to cant in the proper direction?  And, as luck would have it, just then there came hissing and foaming down upon us a particularly heavy sea, into which the frigate dived until she was all a-smother for'ard.  Yet, notwithstanding this, her head continued to sweep round--slowly, it is true; still--"Mainsail haul!" bellowed the first luff through his trumpet, and round swung the after yards, the men bracing them well up and rounding in on the main-sheet.  Now her head was beginning to pay off, but slowly.  The first lieutenant dashes up on the poop and looks over the side--she has begun to gather stern-way.