{"id":"01KG8AMH2NS0NBS4B6TVVDCKE6","cid":"bafkreiel3xdkijmtqkguikxjnc5trozjhrwcx2fckk4whtytp6zwvigxoi","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4147,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:36.270Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 4","source_file":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","start_line":4077,"text":"Toward sunset the stranger bore down before the wind, a complete\r\npyramid of canvas. Never before, I venture to say, was Cape Horn so\r\naudaciously insulted. Stun’-sails alow and aloft; royals, moon-sails,\r\nand everything else. She glided under our stern, within hailing\r\ndistance, and the signal-quarter-master ran up our ensign to the gaff.\r\n\r\n“Ship ahoy!” cried the Lieutenant of the Watch, through his trumpet.\r\n\r\n“Halloa!” bawled an old fellow in a green jacket, clap-ping one hand to\r\nhis mouth, while he held on with the other to the mizzen-shrouds.\r\n\r\n“What ship’s that?”\r\n\r\n“The Sultan, Indiaman, from New York, and bound to Callao and Canton,\r\nsixty days out, all well. What frigate’s that?”\r\n\r\n“The United States ship Neversink, homeward bound.” “Hurrah! hurrah!\r\nhurrah!” yelled our enthusiastic countryman, transported with\r\npatriotism.\r\n\r\nBy this time the Sultan had swept past, but the Lieutenant of the Watch\r\ncould not withhold a parting admonition.\r\n\r\n“D’ye hear? You’d better take in some of your flying-kites there. Look\r\nout for Cape Horn!”\r\n\r\nBut the friendly advice was lost in the now increasing wind. With a\r\nsuddenness by no means unusual in these latitudes, the light breeze\r\nsoon became a succession of sharp squalls, and our sail-proud\r\nbraggadacio of an India-man was observed to let everything go by the\r\nrun, his t’-gallant stun’-sails and flying-jib taking quick leave of\r\nthe spars; the flying-jib was swept into the air, rolled together for a\r\nfew minutes, and tossed about in the squalls like a foot-ball. But the\r\nwind played no such pranks with the more prudently managed canvas of\r\nthe Neversink, though before many hours it was stirring times with us.\r\n\r\nAbout midnight, when the starboard watch, to which, I belonged, was\r\nbelow, the boatswain’s whistle was heard, followed by the shrill cry of\r\n“_All hands take in sail_! jump, men, and save ship!”\r\n\r\nSpringing from our hammocks, we found the frigate leaning over to it so\r\nsteeply, that it was with difficulty we could climb the ladders leading\r\nto the upper deck.\r\n\r\nHere the scene was awful. The vessel seemed to be sailing on her side.\r\nThe main-deck guns had several days previous been run in and housed,\r\nand the port-holes closed, but the lee carronades on the quarter-deck\r\nand forecastle were plunging through the sea, which undulated over them\r\nin milk-white billows of foam. With every lurch to leeward the\r\nyard-arm-ends seemed to dip in the sea, while forward the spray dashed\r\nover the bows in cataracts, and drenched the men who were on the\r\nfore-yard. By this time the deck was alive with the whole strength of\r\nthe ship’s company, five hundred men, officers and all, mostly clinging\r\nto the weather bulwarks. The occasional phosphorescence of the yeasting\r\nsea cast a glare upon their uplifted faces, as a night fire in a\r\npopulous city lights up the panic-stricken crowd.\r\n\r\nIn a sudden gale, or when a large quantity of sail is suddenly to be\r\nfurled, it is the custom for the First Lieutenant to take the trumpet\r\nfrom whoever happens then to be officer of the deck. But Mad Jack had\r\nthe trumpet that watch; nor did the First Lieutenant now seek to wrest\r\nit from his hands. Every eye was upon him, as if we had chosen him from\r\namong us all, to decide this battle with the elements, by single combat\r\nwith the spirit of the Cape; for Mad Jack was the saving genius of the\r\nship, and so proved himself that night. I owe this right hand, that is\r\nthis moment flying over my sheet, and all my present being to Mad Jack.\r\nThe ship’s bows were now butting, battering, ramming, and thundering\r\nover and upon the head seas, and with a horrible wallowing sound our\r\nwhole hull was rolling in the trough of the foam. The gale came athwart\r\nthe deck, and every sail seemed bursting with its wild breath.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 4"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJQSEG0NG7XBMK0AZEKS5","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J19NC56FFGBCM2SWEZZY","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMGEH1F6RH4A0XMQBM8SK","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AMH2Q7PPFRDX4YQ5BV3QG","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:40.021Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:45.864Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}