Tom Cringle's Log

Can't rightly say, sir; she is in the middle of the thick weather to windward. Stay where you are a little-jenkins, jump forward, and see what you can make of her from' the foreyard. Whilst the topman was obeying his instructions, the look-out again hailed She is a ship, sir, close-hauled on the same tack, -the weather clears, and I can see her now.