bove the level of the main yard.

In the popular exaggerated language, "the waves ran mountain high,"
which means from twenty to forty feet; perhaps, on this occasion,
twenty-five feet from the trough of the sea to the crest of the billow.
Even this is a great height to be tossed up and down on the water; and
to the boys of the Young America the effect was grand, if not terrific.
The deck was constantly flooded with water; additional life-lines had
been stretched across from rail to rail, and every precaution taken to
insure the safety of the crew.

Study and recitation were impossible, and nothing was attempted of this
kind. The storm was now what could justly be called a heavy gale, and it
was no longer practicable to lay a course. Before eight bells in the
forenoon watch, the royal and top-gallant yards had been sent down, and
the ship was laid to under a close-reefed main-topsail, which the
nautical gentlemen on board regarded as the best for the peculiar
conditions which the Young America presented.

When a ship is laying to, no attention is paid to anything but the
safety of the vessel, the only object being to keep her head up to the
sea. In the gale, the Young America lay with her port bow to the wind,
her hull being at an angle of forty-five degrees, with a line indicating
the direction of the wind. Her topsail yard was braced so that it
pointed directly to the north-east--the quarter from which the gale
blew. The helm was put a-lee just enough to keep her in the position
indicated. She made little or no headway, but rather drifted with the
waves.

The young tars had a hard forenoon's work; and what was done was
accomplished with triple the labor required in an ordinary sea. All
hands were on duty during the first part of the day, though there were
intervals of rest, such as they were, while the boys had to hold on with
both hands, and there was no stable abiding-place for the body. The ship
rolled so fiercely that no cooking could be done, and the only
refreshments were coffee and "hard tack."

"This is a regular muzzler, Pelham," said Shuffles, in the afternoon, as
they were holding on at the life-lines in the waist.

"That's a fact; and I've got about enough of this thing."

"There isn't much fun in it," replied Shuffles, who had been watching
for this opportunity to advance the interests of the "Chain."

"No, not a bit."

"It's better for you officers, who don't have to lay out on the yards
when