"Shift over your helm, quartermaster," he shouts; "over with it!" and stands breathless, awaiting the result.  "Ah! that's better, now she pays off freely," and presently the main topsail fills with a loud flap. "Fore tack--head bowlines--of all haul!" yells Mr Howard, and the head yards sweep round and are braced hard up, the fore and main tacks are boarded, the weather braces steadied taut, the weather lifts bowsed up, the bowlines hauled, and away goes the saucy _Europa_ on the other tack, having stayed triumphantly in a wind and sea that would have compelled most ships to wear.