The Last Voyage of Martin Vallance by John Arthur Barry

I awoke at daylight, after a very sound and pleasant night's sleep. No one else was stirring, and I had a good wash, lit the galley fire and a pipe, milked Nan, and went on the forecastle-head. The weather was still the same, and the brig had not steerage-way on her. Running out to the jib-boom-end I got a good view of the vessel, and thought that the Major had bought her a bargain--for a prettier model of a little ship I had never clapped eyes on. Coming inboard, I looked into the forecastle--the large house on deck. But there was nothing to be seen save the usual array of bunks, a few bags, one chest, and any number of native mats, pipes, &c. The after bulkhead was full of bullet-holes, evidently made by heavy metal (four ounce, as I found later on), for many of the balls had gone clean through the galley first and then into the forecastle. No wonder the poor devils left hurriedly under such a bombardment. And except Tippoo's great cage--larger than Nan's even--there was absolutely no shelter about the decks for a crowd of men.

That mainyard all askew offended my eye, and setting to work, I presently squared it by the lift and braces, and running aloft, sent the tackle down knowing it was quite useless for three of us to attempt to heave-in a two-ton boat, even with the help of the winch. By the time I had arranged these little matters the sun rose red and very angry-looking, with the whole eastern sky aflame--promise of a regular scorcher of a day. There was a small furled awning aft, and I cast it adrift and was spreading it, when Helen Fortescue came on deck.