120 ALL AFLOAT 



that inborn faculty of touch which tells you 

 instinctively how to meet a vessel's vagaries — 

 and no two vessels are alike — as well as how 

 to make her fall in with all the humours of a 

 wayward ocean. 



The hungry great Antarctic wind comes 

 swooping down. The Victoria lays over to it, 

 her forefoot slashing, her lee side hissing, the 

 windward rigging strained and screaming, and 

 every stitch of canvas drawing full. Still the 

 skipper carries on. He and his vessel have a 

 name to keep up ; and he has carried on till 

 all was blue ere this, and left more than one 

 steam kettle panting. Every timber, plank, 

 mast, yard, and tackle wakes to new life and 

 thrills in response to the sails. She answers her 

 helm quickly, eagerly. She rides the gallop- 

 ing waters now as you ride her. And as she 

 rises to each fresh wave you also rise, with 

 the same exultant spring, and take the leap in 

 your stride. 



The wind pipes up : a regular gale is evi- 

 dently brewing ; and most of the canvas must 

 come off her now or else she '11 soon be stripped 

 of it. ' Stand by your royal halliards ! ' yells the 

 second mate. ' Let go your royal halliards ! ' 

 The royals are down for good. The skysails 

 have been taken in before. Another tre- 



