The ship was still close-hauled, under topsails and courses, with jib and spanker.

The wind came in heavy blasts, and when they struck the sails, the Young America heeled over, until her lee yard-arm seemed to be dipping the waves.

Huge billows came roaring down from the windward, crowned with white foam, and presenting an awful aspect in the night, striking the ship, lifting her bow high in the air, and breaking over the rail, pouring tons of water on the deck.
Before the whole crew had been called, every opening in the deck had been secured, and the plank guards placed over the glass in the skylights.

Life lines had been stretched along the decks, and the swinging ports, through which the water that came over the rail escaped, were crossed with whale line by Peaks, to prevent any unlucky boy from being washed through, if he happened to be thrown off his feet by a rush of water to the scuppers.
The scene was wild and startling; it was even terrible to those who had never seen anything of the kind before, though the old sailors regarded it quite as a matter of course.

Peaks had never been known to be so jolly and excited since he came on board.