hauled to the north 'ard
of northwest, the glass dropped to 28.88, and he turned and ran before a
gale of cyclonic fury, missing, by a hair's breadth, piling up the _Mary
Rogers_ on the black-toothed rocks. Twice he had made west to the Diego
Ramirez Rocks, one of the times saved between two snow-squalls by
sighting the gravestones of ships a quarter of a mile dead ahead.

Blow! Captain Dan Cullen instanced all his thirty years at sea to prove
that never had it blown so before. The _Mary Rogers_ was hove to at the
time he gave the evidence, and, to clinch it, inside half an hour the
_Mary Rogers_ was hove down to the hatches. Her new main-topsail and
brand new spencer were blown away like tissue paper; and five sails,
furled and fast under double gaskets, were blown loose and stripped from
the yards. And before morning the _Mary Rogers_ was hove down twice
again, and holes were knocked in her bulwarks to ease her decks from
the weight of ocean that pressed her down.

On an average of once a week Captain Dan Cullen caught glimpses of the
sun. Once, for ten minutes, the sun shone at midday, and ten minutes
afterward a new gale was piping up, both watches were shortening sail,
and all was buried in the obscurity of a driving snow-squall. For a
fortnight, once, Captain Dan Cullen was without a meridian or a
chronometer sight. Rarely did he know his position within half a degree,
except when in sight of land; for sun and stars remained hidden behind
the sky, and it was so gloomy that even at the best the horizons were
poor for accurate observations. A gray gloom shrouded the world. The
clouds were gray; the great driving seas were leaden gray gloom shrouded
the world. The clouds were gray; the great driving seas were leadening;
even the occasional albatrosses were gray, while the snow-flurries were
not white, but gray, under the sombre pall of the heavens.

Life on board the _Mary Rogers_ was gray,--gray and gloomy. The faces of
the sailors were blue-gray; they were afflicted with sea-cuts and
sea-boils, and suffered exquisitely. They were shadows of men. For
seven weeks, in the forecastle or on deck, they had not known what it
was to be dry. They had forgotten what it was to sleep out a watch, and
all watches it was, "All hands on deck!" They caught snatches of
agonized sleep, and they slept in their oilskins ready for the
everlasting call. So weak and worn were they that it took both watches
to do the work of one. That w