The sea came at us in great ocean swells, but the stout bark fought a passage through them, shivering with each blow, yet driven forward on her course by half-reefed sails, standing hard as boards in the sweep of the steady gale.

Two men struggled at the wheel, and there were times when LeVere paused in his promenade from rail to rail to give them a helping hand.

His anxiety was evidenced by his hailing the mast-head every few moments, only to receive each time the same response.

The mist failed to lift, but seemed to shut us in more closely with every hour, the wind growing continually more boisterous, but LeVere held on grimly.

I was kept at the guns during the entire time of our watch.