324 
A VIOLENT GALE. 
was an old Behring’s Straits whaler, and there is no 
better boatman in the world than he; but I know 
that he shared my doubts, as the boat buried herself 
again and again in the trough of a short chopping 
sea, which it taxed all his dexterity in steering to 
meet. 
Baffin passed around this gulf in 1616 with two 
small vessels; but they were giants beside ours. 1 
thought of them as we crossed his track steering for 
Cape Combermere, then about sixty miles distant, with 
every prospect of a heavy gale. 
We were in the centre of this large area of open 
water when the gale broke upon us from the north. 
We were near foundering. Our false bow of India- 
rubber cloth was beaten in, and our frail weather¬ 
boarding soon followed it. With the utmost exertion 
we could hardly keep our boat from broaching to: a 
broken oar or an accidental twitch would have been 
fatal to us at any time. But McGary handled that 
whaler’s marvel, the long steering-oar, with admirable 
skill. None of us could pretend to take his place. For 
twenty-two unbroken hours he stuck to his post with¬ 
out relaxing his attention or his efforts. 
I was not prepared for such a storm. I do not think 
I have seen a worse sea raised by the northers of the 
Gulf of Mexico. At last the wind hauled to the east¬ 
ward, and we were glad to drive before it for the 
in-shore floes. We had passed several bergs; but 
the sea dashed against their sides so furiously as to 
