It might also seem as if the different parties were afraid to let out the secret of their own lurking apprehension, but yet were resolved not to be caught unprepared.
Of these forerunners of a gale none is more striking than the repeated looks of anxiety which the captain casts to windward, as if his glance could penetrate the black sky lowering in the north-west, in order to discover what was behind, and how long with safety he might carry sail.

Ever and anon he shifts his look from the wind's eye, and rests it on the writhing spars aloft, viewing with much uneasiness the stretching canvas all but torn from the yards.

He then steps below, and for the fortieth time reads off the barometer.

On returning to the deck he finds that, during the few minutes he has been below, the breeze has freshened considerably, or, it may be, that, coming suddenly upon it again, he views it differently.

At all events, he feels the necessity of getting the sails in while he yet can, or before "God Almighty takes them in for him," as the sailors say when matters have been so long deferred, that not only canvas and yards, but even masts, are at times suddenly wrenched out of the ship, and sent in one confused mass far off to leeward, whirling in the gale! The men, who are generally well aware of the necessity of shortening sail long before the captain has made up his mind to call the hands for that purpose, have probably been collected in groups for some time in different parts of the upper deck, talking low to one another, and looking aloft with a start, every now and then, as the masts or yards give an extra crack.
"Well! this is packing on her," says one, laying an emphasis on the word "is." "Yes!" replies another; "and if our skipper don't mind, it will be packing off her presently," with an emphasis on the word "off." "Right well do I know these Cape gales," adds an ancient mariner of the South Seas; "they snuffle up in a minute; and, I'll answer for it, the captain will not carry sail so long off Cape Aguilhas, when he has gone round that breezy point as often as old Bill has." At this moment the tardy voice of the commander, long unwilling to lose any part of the fair wind, is at length heard, giving the reluctant order, "Turn the hands up, shorten sail!" The ready clatter of feet, and the show of many heads at all the hatchways, and perhaps the sound of a suppressed laugh amongst the men who have been gossiping and wagering about the gale, give sufficient indication that this evolution has been expected for some time.
"All hands shorten sail!" calls out the boatswain, after a louder and sharper note than usual from his pipe, winded not half the ordinary length of time, though twice as shrilly; for his object is to mark on the ears of the people the necessity of unusual expedition and exertion.