A BOUGH TIME AT SEA. 299 



mainsail, fore-stail, and storm-jib. Sometimes the vessel 

 would appear to jump, as she would leave the top of one 

 roller to reach the next. Nobly the gallant craft bore 

 the ordeal, and splendidly did she behave ; still, the cool 

 self-possession of the captain failed to prevent my thinking 

 how much better I should be satisfied to be again standing 

 on terra Jirma, and, although pride prevented my making 

 the confession, I internally registered a vow, that if I ever 

 again placed my foot on land, nothing should again tempt 

 me to trust my safety on board a coaster. 



But to my narrative. With each hour the gale increased, 

 and to such violence that the gallant schooner was momen- 

 tarily in peril. Next morning dawned bleak and wild, the 

 waves tumbled over one another, the larger swallowing up 

 the lesser for want of something else to satisfy their 

 devouring inclination. This day and several others were 

 only a repetition of the first night ; no reckoning could 

 be obtained; still we stood upon our course. With 

 half an eye I could detect that our skipper was 

 uneasy, and anxious again for a glimpse of the old familiar 

 sun. 



One of our sails had been blown to ribbons, and our 

 bowsprit became partially sprung, still as long as we had 

 plenty of sea-room all was comparatively safe ; sailors' 

 ingenuity had obviated temporarily the injury of the latter, 

 and the sail-room had supplied fresh canvas. The fourth 

 evening the gale exhausted itself about midnight, and I, 

 who had not closed an eye during these days, experienced a 

 few hours of the balmiest sleep that ever fell to the lot of 

 storm-tossed mariner, notwithstanding that there was not a 



