BAD WEATHER. 27 



immense four-masted iron ship homeward hound. She 

 was staggering under a veritable mountain of canvas, 

 fairly burying her bows in the foam at every forward 

 drive, and actually wetting the clews of the upper topsails 

 in the smothering masses of spray, that every few 

 minutes almost hid her hull from sight. 



It was a splendid picture ; but — for the time — I felt 

 glad I was not on board of her. In a very few minutes 

 she was out of our ken, followed by the admiration of all. 

 Then came, from the other direction, a huge steamship, 

 taking no more notice of the gale than as ifit were calm. 

 Straight through the sea she rushed, dividing the mighty 

 rollers to the heart, and often bestriding three seas at 

 once, the centre one spreading its many tons of foaming 

 water fore and aft, so that from every orifice spouted 

 the seething brine. Compared with these greyhounds 

 of the wave, we resembled nothing so much as some old 

 lightship bobbing serenely around, as if part and parcel 

 of the mid-Atlantic. 



Our greenies were getting so well seasoned by this 

 time that even this rough weather did not knock any 

 of them over, and from that time forward they had no 

 more trouble from sea-sickness. 



The gale gradually blew itself out, leaving behind 

 only a long and very heavy swell to denote the deep- 

 reaching disturbance that the ocean had endured. 

 And now we were within the range of the Sargasso 

 Weed, that mysterious fucus that makes the ocean look 

 like some vast hayfield, and keeps the sea from rising, 

 no matter how high the wind. It fell a dead calm, and 

 the harpooners amused themselves by dredging up great 

 masses of the weed, and turning out the many strange 

 creatures abiding therein. What a world of wonderful 



