ome
needful to stop, for the wind has just changed rather suspiciously, and
we can even hear the sound of the drums at Portsmouth as they beat the
taptoo. A few bright meteors shoot athwart the heavens above, reminding
us that this is one of their usual epochs--the 14th of August.

Now we are in ten fathoms by the lead, and we must anchor here, for the
tide has fully turned and the wind has lulled, and perhaps it will do to
sleep for six hours now before going on again.

The beautiful phosphorescence of the sea on this occasion was an
attractive sight, and I could follow the line of my hemp cable by the
gleam of silver light which enfolded it with a gradually softened
radiance from the surface of the sea, down--down to an unseen depth,
where, in sooth, it was dark enough. {242}

The gentle motion of riding with a chain-cable is quite in contrast to
that when anchored by a rope; for this latter will jerk and pull, while
the heavier chain, laid in a drooping curve, acts as a constant spring
that eases and cushions every rude blow.

I intended to start again with any freshening breeze, and to get into
Littlehampton for the night; therefore the small anchor and the hemp
cable were used so as to be more ready for instant departure, and well it
was thus.

Time sped slowly between looking at my watch to know the tide change, and
dozing as I lay in the cabin--the dingey being of course astern; until in
the middle of the night, lapsing through many dreams, I had glided into
that delicious state when you dream that you are dreaming. On a sudden,
and without any seeming cause, I felt perfectly awake, and yet in a sort
of trance, and lying still a time, seeking what could possibly have
awakened me thus. Then there came through the dark a peal of thunder,
long, and loud, and glorious.

How changed the scene to look upon! No light to be seen from the Owers
now, but a flash from above and then darkness, and soon a grand rolling
of the same majestic, deep-toned roar.

Now I must prepare for wind. On with the life-belt, close the hatches,
loose the mainsail, and double reef it, and reef the jib. Off with the
mizen and set the storm-sail, and now haul up the anchor while yet there
is time; and there was scarcely time before a rattling breeze got up, and
waves rose too, and rain came down as we sailed off south to the open sea
for room. Sea room is the sailor's want: the land is what he fears more
than the water.

We were