FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 25 



under main-staysail. She was badly iced up, and appeared to be laboring 

 heavily, rolling her lee yard arms nearly to the surface of the water. 



To one standing upon the deck of our little schooner at this time, the 

 scene, though grand and impressive, had a decidedly wintry and dreary look. 

 The ice-covered hull and rigging, the dark masses of snow-laden clouds 

 driven to leeward by the gale, which shrieked and whistled through the 

 ropes, and lashed into the wildest fury the foam-flecked waters, piling them 

 into huge waves, was a sight, that, once seen, could never be forgotten. 

 But on we went, now plunging down the side of a big sea, again lurching 

 heavily, filling the deck with water, which, as the vessel straightened up 

 again, went dashing over to the weather-side, often out over the rail, and 

 through the binnacle into the cabin. 



The remark of one of our boys, that " any one who can't swim had better 

 take a back seat," was certainly very apt, but the gravity of the situation, and 

 the damage incident to running in such a gale, with the sea on the quarter, 

 was better expressed by the order frequently shouted to the man at the 

 wheel, "Watch her sharp now! Keep your eye to wind'ard, and if you see 

 a big one* coming swing her off and let her take it stern to." 



During the afternoon there was a dangerous and nasty cross sea running, 

 rendering it extremely unsafe to continue on our course during the night. 

 We therefore took in the jib and furled it before dark, and at 5 o'clock, P. M. 

 hove to under double-reefed foresail and riding-sail. At 7 P. M. the gale 

 still continues with undiminished force, but, like a gull with its head under 

 its wing, our litle "sea-boat" rises and falls, safely breasting the foam-crested 

 waves that go seething by, leaving behind them a phosphorescent track, 

 which lights up the surrounding darkness, giving it a peculiarly weird and 

 strange appearance. Thus closes this day, the events of which I now sit 

 down to write before turning in for the night. 



WASHED OUT OF A DORY— A TERRIBLE STRUGGLE 



FOR LIFE. 



On a breezy day in November, 1SS0, the crew of the sch. Grace L. Fears, 

 — a fresh halibut catcher which lay at anchor in the "Deep Water" — started 

 out to haul their trawls. Although it was rough, the waves frequently break- 

 ing, and the wind blew in gusty puffs, it was not considered exceptionally 

 dangerous to venture out by the fishermen, since the tide, which ran quite 

 strong to windward, would materially assist them in again reaching the 

 vessel. 



In one of the dories were William T. Lee and Jack Devine. When these 

 two had safely hauled the larger part of their trawl, and the boat, which 



*A large breaking wave. 



