ABOUT THE WEATHER. 1 1 7 



man looks upon his companions in suffering with the wild, 

 murderous glance of despair. 



The sun sinks below the horizon, the evening sky is 

 illumined by a peculiar coppery redness; and with the 

 advancing night, arises a black wall to the eastward; a 

 low, shrill pipe resounds from the distance, from whence a 

 streak of foam advances over the black ocean. The ship 

 sways and rocks upon the irregular waves, but the sail still 

 hangs against the mast, flapping dismally upon the spars. 

 Suddenly the storm bursts over with frightful roar : with 

 a shriek, the sails are torn asunder and fly in ribbons ! a 

 loud crack ! a second, and the mainmast goes overboard ! 

 By a violent effort the crew succeed in cutting through the 

 remaining ropes, and the ship now flies over the ocean 

 now borne high upon the backs of the waves now hurled 

 down into the depths ; so that every seam creaks and 

 groans as though it would part asunder. The thunder rolls 

 unceasingly, continuous lightning darts through the agitated 

 atmosphere ; the rain falls in streams instead of drops. Ten 

 times the sailors give themselves up for lost, when the 

 quaking barque falls into the trough of the sea, and as many 

 times does it rise over the waves again. At last the storm 

 lulls ; single shocks follow, always at longer intervals ; the 

 waves become smoother, and when the consoling sun rises 

 in the east, it illuminates the same dreary picture as on the 

 former day. Mirror-like the endless surface again expands, 

 and in eight days is the store of collected water exhausted ; 

 and again the silent spectres creep about and turn mur- 

 derous looks upon each other. A new storm, a new calm, 

 and so on in frightful alternation, till at last the ship is 

 driven into the region of the peaceful trade-wind on the 

 other side of the equator. Hundreds of ships have gone 

 down in storms here ; hundreds lost their crews by the 



