Summary

Frederic Stanhope Hill Twenty years at sea: Leaves from my old log-books (1893)

I have been aloft, since that beautiful afternoon, many times in howling gales of wind to close-reef topsails. I have crawled out to storm furl a sail in a typhoon in the Straits of Sunda when the force of the wind pinned me to the yard and I felt that every moment might be my last. I went through that hell of fire in the old Richmond, astern of Farragut in the Hartford, when we passed Forts Jackson and St. Philip below New Orleans, but I am sure that I have never since experienced the abject fear I endured that day before I reached the Bombay’s royal yard!
Source: Gutenberg

Frederic Stanhope Hill Twenty years at sea: Leaves from my old log-books (1893)

Taylor shoved off, and his men pulled lustily toward the schooner. It was not necessary to give the order to keep a sharp lookout on the movements of the boat, for every man in the ship felt a personal interest in her, and all hands were watching her progress, from the masthead lookouts to the mess cooks, who hung gazing out of the ports whenever they could escape for a moment from their duties.
To pull a heavy man-of-war cutter six or eight miles in a seaway is not child’s play; and although the men buckled to their oars like heroes, it was slow work.
Source: Gutenberg

Frederic Stanhope Hill Twenty years at sea: Leaves from my old log-books (1893)

As it is, although every thread of canvas is drawing, the bowlines are hauled well out and the weather leeches of the topsails shiver as the ship rises and falls on the strong easterly swell; for she is kept almost in the wind’s eye by the old quartermaster at the wheel, under the watchful conning of the officer of the deck.
Near one of the after guns stands an officer looking through his marine glass toward the southward, steadying himself, meanwhile, by leaning against the weather mizzen rigging.
Source: Gutenberg

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