CHAPTER 4.XXII.
An end of the storm.
Shore, shore! cried Pantagruel.

Land to, my friends, I see land! Pluck up a good spirit, boys, 'tis within a kenning.

So! we are not far from a port .-- I see the sky clearing up to the northwards .-- Look to the south-east! Courage, my hearts, said the pilot; now she'll bear the hullock of a sail; the sea is much smoother; some hands aloft to the maintop.

Put the helm a-weather.

Steady! steady! Haul your after-mizen bowlines.