Night was unfolding her wings over the quiet sea. Purple, dark and smooth, the circling expanse of glassy stillness met the sky all round in an unbroken line, like the edge of some cloud-towering plateau, to all the rest of the world. A few lingering of fading glory laced the western , reflecting splashes of colour half-way across the circle, and occasionally with splendid but effect the rounded shoulder of an almost imperceptible . Their departure was being with wistful eyes by a little company of men and one woman, who, without haste and a hushed solemnity as of mourners at the burial of a dear one, were leaving their and themselves in a small boat which lay almost motionless alongside. There was no need for haste, for the situation had been long developing. The brig was an old one, whose owner was poor and unable to spare sufficient from her for her proper upkeep. So she had been gradually going from bad to worse, not having been strongly built of hard wood at first, but pinned together hastily by some farmer-shipbuilder-fisherman up the Bay of Fundy, mortgaged strake by strake, like a , and finally sold by for the price of the timber in her. Still, being a smart model and newly[231] painted, she looked rather attractive when Captain South first saw her lying in lonely dignity at an otherwise in the St. Katharine’s Docks. Poor man, the command of her meant so much to him. Long out of employment, friendless and poor, he had invested a tiny , just fallen to his wife, in the vessel as the only means whereby he could obtain command of even such a poor of a vessel as the Dorothea. And the shrewd old man who owned her drove a hard bargain. For the small privilege of the skipper carrying his wife with him 50s. per month was from the scanty wage at first agreed upon. But in spite of these drawbacks the anxious master felt a pleasant glow of satisfaction thrill him as he thought that soon he would be once more afloat, the of his tiny realm, and free for several peaceful months from the of shore-life.  
In order to avoid expense he lived on board while in dock, and made himself happily busy rigging up all sorts of cunning additions to the little cuddy, with an eye to the comfort of his wife. While thus engaged came a thunderclap, the first piece of bad news. The Dorothea was chartered to carry a of railway iron and to Buenos Ayres. Had he been going alone the thing would have annoyed him, but he would have got over that with a good old-fashioned British or so. But with Mary on board—the thought was paralysing. For there is only one cargo that tries a ship more than railway metal, ore badly stowed. Its effect upon a staunch steel-built ship is to make her motion[232] abominable—to take all the sea-kindness out of her. A wooden vessel, even of the best build, burdened with those lengths of solid metal, is like a living creature on the rack, in spite of the most careful stowage. Every timber in her complains, every bend and strake is and strained, so that, be her record for “tightness” never so good, one ordinary will make frequent exercise at the pump an established institution. And Captain South already knew that the Dorothea was far from being staunch and well-built, although, happily for his small remaining peace of mind, he did not know how walty and unseaworthy she really was. A few minutes’ bitter , over this latest in his lot, and the man in him rose to the occasion, to make the best of it and hope for a fine run into the trades. He superintended her stowing himself, much to the disgust of the , who are never over particular unless closely watched, although so much depends upon the way their work is done. At any rate, he had the satisfaction of knowing that the ugly stuff was as handsomely as experience could suggest, and, with a sigh of relief, he saw the main hatches put on and battened down for a full due.
 
In the selection of his crew he had been unusually careful. Five A.B.’s were all that he was allowed, the vessel being only 500 tons burden, two officers besides himself, and one man for the double function of cook and . Therefore, he sought to secure the best possible according to his , and really succeeded in getting[233] together a sturdy little band. His chief comfort, however, was in his second mate, who was a Finn—one of that race from the eastern shore of the Baltic who seem to inherit not only a natural for a sea life, but also the ability to build ships, make sails and rigging, do blacksmithing, &c.—all, in fact, that there is to a ship, as our cousins say. Slow, but reliable to the core, and a perfect godsend in a small ship. In Olaf Svensen, then, the skipper felt he had a tower of strength. The mate was a young Londoner, smart and trustworthy—not too independent to thrust his arms into the tarpot when necessary, and withal. The other six members of the crew—two Englishmen and three Scandinavians—were good , all sailors—there wasn’t a steamboat man among them—and, from the first day when in the dock they all arrived sober and ready for work, matters went and salt-water fashion.
 
It was late in October when they sailed, and they had no sooner been cast adrift by the grimy little “jackal” that towed them down to the Nore than they were greeted by a bitter nor’-wester that gave them a sorry time of it getting round the Foreland. The short, vicious Channel sea made the loosely-knit frame of the brig sing a mournful song as she jumped at it, sharp up, and many were the remarks exchanged in the close, wedge-shaped fo’c’s’le on her behaviour in these comparatively smooth waters, coupled with gloomy as to what sort of a fist she[234] would make of the Western Ocean waves presently. Clinkety-clank, bang, bang went the pumps for fifteen minutes out of every two hours, the water rising clear, as though from overside, and a deeper shade settled on the skipper’s brow. For a merry fourteen days they fought their way inch by inch down Channel, getting their first between Ushant and Scilly in the shape of a hard nor’-easter, that drove them clear of the land and 300 miles out into the Atlantic. Then it fell a calm, with a golden all round the horizon by day, and a sweet, balmy feel in the air—a touch of Indian summer on the sea. Three days it lasted—days that brought no comfort to the skipper, who could hardly hold his patience when his wife blessed the lovely weather, in her happy ignorance of what might be expected as the price presently to be paid for it. Then one evening there began to rise in the west the familiar sign so dear to homeward-bounders, so by outward-going ships—the of cloud uplifted to receive the setting sun. The skipper watched its growth as if fascinated by the sight, watched it until at midnight it had risen to be a vast convex screen, hiding one-half of the deep blue sky. At the changing of the watch he had her shortened down to the two lower topsails and -topmast staysail, and having thus her, went below to snatch, dressed, a few minutes’ sleep. The first moaning breath of the coming gale roused him almost as soon as it reached the ship, and as the Svensen gave his[235] first order, “Lee fore !” the skipper appeared at the companion hatch, peering anxiously to windward, where the centre of that gloomy veil seemed to be worn thin. The only light left was just a little segment of blue low down on the eastern horizon, to which, in spite of themselves, the eyes of the travailing watch turned wistfully. But whatever shape the surging thoughts may take in the minds of seamen, the of the moment effectually prevents any development of them into despair in the case of our own countrymen. So, in to the cries of Mr. Svensen, they strove to get the Dorothea into that position where she would be best able to stem the rising sea, and fore-reach over the of the long, creaming rollers, that as they came surging past swept her, a mile at a blow, sideways to , leaving a whirling, broadside wake of curling . Silent and anxious, Captain South hung with one elbow over the edge of the companion, his keen hearing taking note of every complaint made by the trembling timbers beneath his feet, whose querulous voices the deeper note of the storm.
 
All that his long experience could suggest for the safety of his vessel was put into practice. One by one the scanty show of sail was taken in and secured with extra gasket turns, lest any of them should, showing a loose corner, be ripped adrift............