84 HISTORY AND METHODS OF THE FISHERIES. 
the gale out in safety, and to the question of ‘‘How does she ride?” they reply, “Ride? Why, 
she shames the gulls! But there’s some wild seas going; some regular old tearers that give her 
all she can do to climb over them.” Barometer at 10 p. m., 29.45. 
Tuesday, February 11, 1879.—This morning at 7 o’clock the wind still blew a heavy gale, but 
its fury did not compare with that of last night. There was a high combing sea, but our vessel 
rose bravely over the sharp waves. The air was as it has been, quite cold, and there was some 
ice on deck. All the damage the vessel has sustained, so far, is one broken checker plank and 
the cleats knocked off two others; a damage so trifling as to be hardly worth mentioning. The 
barometer, at 7 a. m., stood at 30.05. There were no vessels in sight this morning, so it is 
evident that the Williams and Phillips both went adrift again last night. The sky was generally 
overcast in the morning, though here and there a patch of blue showed through the rifts in the 
clouds. It was a wild scene around us, but one which has so often been described that a repetition 
would be words wasted. 
The little white gulls sit hovering on the water near the stern of the vessel, occasionally 
rising on a wing to clear a breaking wave, or to pick up any fish offal that may be washed from 
the scuppers. : 
At 3 p. m. a brig-rigged steamship passed across our stern, going to the westward, and a half 
hour later another of the same rig passed, going to the eastward. The wind blew a smart gale 
until the latter part of the afternoon, when it began to moderate some. At 6p. m., barometer 30.25. 
The men have been variously employed to-day, each to his own taste; some have been making 
mats out of buoy-line; others patching oil-clothes, reading, &c.; while one poor fellow with a pen- 
chant for card playing has been coaxing some one to play a game with him. “Anything you like,” 
he says; “state your game, only say you'll play.” 
At supper time I ordered the cook to get on his boilers and heat some water, so that we can 
thaw the strad, and get the ice off the windlass, and later the order was given to the watch to 
pass along the word to give me a call if it moderated any more. I was called at 10.30 p. m., and 
we began to heave in cable. The wind at this time had backed to W. by N. and still blew a fresh 
‘preeze, making it slow, hard work heaving in cable. 
Wednesday, February 12, 1879.—At 1 a.m. we got the “slack” cable (400 fathoms) hove in, 
went below, and all except the watch turned in again. At this time (1 a. m.) the air was milder, 
and the ice began to soften up and drop off the rigging and rails in some places. Before going 
below I ordered the watch to fix up the checker planks, and to tell the next watch to clear the ice 
off the dories. 
The morning broke fine and clear, with a moderate westerly breeze. Barometer at 6 a. m., 
30.30. Having had breakfast, our fellows were off to look for their trawls as soon as it was fairly 
light. 
At 7 a.m. two vessels were in sight to the northward of us, under whole sail, heading this 
way, but as they frequently changed their course it was apparent that they were looking for gear. 
After awhile they both steered straight for us. They proved to be the Alice M. Williams and N. 
H. Phillips. Both skippers came aboard to find out if we had drifted any in the gale, for they 
knew #f we still held on they could find their gear by the bearings and distance from our vessel, 
which they had observed before the gale came on. After shaking hands and the usual inquiries 
about each others’ welfare, one said to me, “Did you ride it out?” I replied in the affirmative, 
when he continued, “What kind of a vessel have you got? I don’t believe there’s another vessel 
on the Bank that rode it out, and I didn’t think any could—not in deep water. We've come thirty 
miles up the edge of the Bank, and there’s not a vessel at anchor.” I inquired of the skipper of 
