374 TEE CRUISE OF THE " CACHALOT." 



Stronger and stronger blew the brave 'west wind ; 

 dirtier, gloomier, and colder grew the weather, until, 

 reduced to two topsails and a reefed foresail, we were 

 scudding dead before the gale for all we were worth. 

 This was a novel experience for us in the Cachalot, and 

 I was curious to see how she would behave. To my mind, 

 the supreme test of a ship's sea-kindliness is the length 

 of time she will scud before a gale without " pooping " a 

 sea or taking such heavy water on board over her sides 

 as to do serious damage. Some ships are very dangerous 

 to run at all. Endeavouring to make the best use of 

 the gale which is blowing in the right direction, the 

 captain " hangs on " to all the sail he can carry, until 

 she ships a mighty mass of water over all, so that the 

 decks are filled with wreckage, or, worse still, " poops " a 

 sea. The latter experience is a terrible one, even to a 

 trained seaman. You are running before the wind and 

 waves, sometimes deep in the valley between two liquid 

 mountains, sometimes high on the rolling ridge of one. 

 You watch anxiously the speed of the sea, trying to 

 decide whether it or you are going the faster, when 

 suddenly there seems to be a hush, almost a lull, in 

 the uproar. You look astern, and see a wall of water 

 rising majestically higher and higher, at the same time 

 drawing nearer and nearer. Instinctively you clutch 

 at something firm, and hold your breath. Then that 

 mighty green barrier leans forward, the ship's stern 

 seems to settle at the same time, and, with a thundering 

 noise as of an avalanche descending, it overwhelms you. 

 Of course the ship's way is deadened ; she seems like a 

 living thing overburdened, yet struggling to be free ; and 

 well it is for all hands if the helmsman be able to keep 

 his post and his wits about him. For if he be hurt, or 

 have fled from the terrible wave, it is an even chance 



