"All hands shorten sail!" sung out the captain.  The crew sprung aloft; so did Jerry and I.  We never shirked our duty, and Captain Frankland knew that if he let us do so, whatever the excuse, we should never become true seamen.  It was hard work to hold on to the yard, much more to get in the stiff canvas.  I have heard of people having their teeth blown down their throats by a gale; I thought mine would have gone, and then I should have gone too, for I literally had to hold on by them to steady myself on the yard.  Jerry was not far from me.  We tugged and hauled away, and at last got the canvas rolled up as we best could; but I must own that it was far from well done.  The gale was still increasing in strength, and we were not sorry to find ourselves safe on deck again--so, I think, was the captain to see us.  Perhaps, however, he had got so accustomed to the risks his son was constantly running, that he did not think about it.  Scarcely had we come down from aloft, and were looking about to see what was going to happen, than we saw away to the south-east, far as the eye could reach, a tumbling mass of foaming waters rushing on at a furious rate towards us.