The first time we reefed topsails at sea, the captain was on deck: he said nothing, but merely looked on. The second time, we found he had caught all the words of the first lieutenant, and repeated them in a loud and pompous voice, without knowing whether they were applicable to the case or not. The third time he fancied he was able to go alone, and down he fell — he made a sad mistake indeed. “Hoist away the fore-topsail,” said the first lieutenant. “Hoist away the fore-topsail,” said the captain. The men were stamping aft, and the topsail-yards travelling up to the mast-head very fast, when they were stopped by a sudden check with the fore-topsail haulyards.
“What’s the matter?” said the first lieutenant, calling to me, who was at my station on the forecastle.
“Something foul of the topsail-tie,” I replied.
“What’s the matter forward?” said the captain.
“Topsail-tie is foul, my lord,” answered the first lieutenant.
“Damn the topsail-tie! — cut it away. Out knife there, aloft! I will have the topsail hoisted; cut away the topsail-tie!”
For the information of my land readers, I should observe that the topsail-tie was the very rope which was at that moment suspending the yard aloft. The cutting it would have disabled the ship until it could have been repaired; and had the order been obeyed, the topsail-yard itself would, in all probability, have been sprung, or broken in two on the cap.
— Frederick Marryat, The Naval Officer (Frank Mildmay)
A Man-O'War Under Reefed Topsails in Heavy Weather, Montague Dawson (1895-1973)
