The wind was now nearly northwest, and she lay down until the water was several planks up her deck.

The crew were all lashed to windward, clustering where they would be most out of danger, should the mast go.
Fairclough stood for a minute, looking at the shivering mast, and the shrouds stretched like iron bars.
"We must get the guns overboard, Mr.Hardy; she will never stand this," and indeed the waves, striking her broadside, were falling in a cascade over her.
Calling four of the men, Hardy made his way down into the lee scuppers, where the water was nearly up to their waists; opened the portholes and slacked the lashings, when the four guns disappeared overboard.

It required much greater pains to get down the guns from the port side, as tackle had to be attached to each, so that they could be lowered carefully, one by one, across the deck; but all worked heartily, and these also were launched overboard.
"That has eased her, a bit," Fairclough said, when Hardy rejoined him.

"They helped to pin her down, and I could almost feel the difference, as each gun went overboard." "I am afraid that it will make no difference, in the long run," Hardy said.

"She must be making a great deal of leeway, and I should say that she will be on shore in a couple of hours, at the latest.