60 FISHES I HAVE KNOWN 



As the wind freshened, sail after sail was taken 

 in. It became cyclonic, and in its fierceness beat 

 down the heaving, rebellious sea and prevented the 

 billows from rising. The uproar was frightful, and 

 the wind played upon the rigging as upon a giant 

 yEolian harp. I could not hear a sound of the 

 captain's voice, although he was bawling within 

 a few inches of me. Then came a sudden lull, the 

 ominous pause before the climax. The angry sea 

 had time to rise ; and rise it did, mountains high, 

 with foaming crests of indignation at having been 

 restrained. Then, without a moment's warning, 

 the blast was resumed, but from a different 

 quarter luckily, not ahead. We scudded before 

 it under bare poles for several hours, when, for 

 a moment, the four men at the wheel old salts 

 as they were appalled at the towering waves, lost 

 their nerve. 



There was a fearful crash. Tons of water fell 

 with steam-hammer force upon the port quarter. 

 The good ship staggered like a stricken hart, 

 stopped dead, and, as she slowly began to answer 

 the helm, gathered way as if painfully wounded, 

 and resumed her course dead before the wind. 



We recovered breath, and looked around. 

 Inboard, on stout iron davits, there had hung 

 a fine whale-boat. I say had hung, for there was 



