As I crawled up the lee steps of the poop of The Gentle Hand, I began to believe it was blowing. I could not possibly stand before that blast. Holding to the poop-rail, I worked aft and relieved Yankee Dan, who had helped the man already there by taking the spokes to windward.

All about the barque were the lowering banks of scud, darkening the ocean now almost to night, and flying with the rapidity of the wind. Above was the deep gray of the heavy pall of vapour.

I glanced into the binnacle and noticed that the wind had already shifted, although it had been blowing less than an hour. It had become more and more squally, and the blasts roared down upon the barque with incredible force. The sea was ugly, but instead of the great, rolling sea of the Cape, it was a short, quick mass of water that flung itself with appalling force. High as she was, The Gentle Hand took them now and again over the topgallant-rail, 163and flooded her main-deck waist-deep. Soon her lee bulwarks tore away, letting the flood have full sway across and overboard. This eased her a trifle, and we strove to nurse her closer to the wind, although, without canvas, the wheel would have been as well lashed hard down.

For three hours more she headed up beautifully, although sometimes the blasts would take her to leeward and whirl her head up into the sea. Then another would strike her full, and off she would swing almost into the trough, while Hawkson and the rest would struggle to get a cloth against the weather mizzen ratlines.

Suddenly, after one wild, snoring rush of warm wind, it fell dead calm. The sea was leaping wildly, bursting over our bow one moment, and then the next piling in amidships with a crash that tested the strength of the old hull. She would seem to settle under the load, and once there was nothing visible forward of the break of the poop save the end of her t’gallant forecastle. The men had to lay aft and keep alive.

While the calm moments lasted, the air was oppressively warm, and I noticed Hicks come from behind the shelter of the spanker-boom and coolly light his pipe, although the barque was rolling and plunging so heavily it was hard to see how he kept his feet without holding on. He made his way aft 164just as Mr. Curtis emerged from the companion, followed by Miss Allen.

The barque was plunging wildly, and I had all I could do to hold the wheel-spokes. Suddenly I heard a cry from forward. Captain Howard stood clear of the mizzen for a moment and pointed aft. Over the starboard quarter a huge sea rose like a wall, then topped into a snoring comber, and flung with the rush of an avalanche over the poop. The dull, thunderous crash drowned all sound, and the same instant I felt myself being torn from the wheel by the flood. Then I went under, still holding on with all my strength to the spokes, but feeling them dragged from my hands by the prodigious power washing me away.

When I came to my senses, I was lying against the rise of the poop, where I had brought up doubled over, my body on top and my legs hanging in the swirl that rolled over to leeward. There was no one at the wheel. The Norwegian had gone overboard, and, as he had probably struck heavily against the spokes, he was doubtless killed outright.

I crawled back, gasping and driving the brine from my face. Then I remembered Miss Allen and her lover, Mr. Curtis, and looked for them.

In the boiling foam of the side-wash a few fathoms from the side, the girl’s head, with her hair 165floating in tangles, showed above the white. She was apparently swimming, though feebly, for she must have been hurled far below in the cataract that poured to leeward. Near her was Mr. Curtis, his eyes staring at the ship and his face expressing surprise and anxiety. He struck out for the barque, and did not help the girl near him, or, in fact, give her any attention until he had grasped the lee mizzen channels as the vessel rolled down. Here he drew himself up, and started to coil a line trailing overboard to throw to her. I started to the side, letting go the wheel, but before I reached the rail, I saw a form plunge from the mizzen sheer-pole, and in an instant Hicks rose to the surface almost alongside the young lady. It was boldly done, and I caught the expression in his eyes as he seized her by the shoulder and turned toward the ship.

Hawkson was bawling out something, and I turned in time to feel the first puff of a squall that came snoring down upon us with a rush that made every line sing to the strain. In an instant the barque was laying over to it, and as it struck her abaft the beam she started ahead.

Hicks was now alongside, and Curtis, aided by Yankee Dan, was helping the young girl on deck. It was a remarkable occurrence, happening as it did in the centre of that hurricane, when the barque was becalmed and without any headway. Otherwise 166it would have been a certain death for any one going over the side. In less than five minutes the gale was blowing as hard as ever from an almost opposite point of the compass, the squalls coming with appalling force, sending us a good fifteen knots an hour, with nothing but the b............