s the greater mountains are composed of ranges and peaks.
They seemed moving volcanoes, changing form with every minute of their
agony, and spouting lavas of froth. All over this immense riot of
tormented deeps rolled beaten and terrified armies of clouds. The wind
reigned supreme, driving with a relentless spite, a steady and obdurate
pressure, as if it were a current of water. It pinned the sailors to the
yards, and nearly blew Thurstane from the deck.

The Lolotte was down to close-reefed topsails, close-reefed spencer and
spanker, and storm-jib. Even upon this small and stout spread of canvas
the wind was working destruction, for just as Thurstane reached the deck
the jib parted and went to leeward in ribbons. Sailors were seen now on
the bowsprit fighting at once with sea and air, now buried in water, and
now holding on against the storm, and slowly gathering in the flapping,
snapping fragments. Next a new jib (a third one) was bent on, hoisted
half-way, and blown out like a piece of wet paper. Almost at the same
moment the captain saw threatening mouths grimace in the mainsail, and
screamed "Never mind there forrard. Lay up on the maintawps'l yard. Lay up
and furl."

After half an hour's fight, the sail bagging and slatting furiously, it
was lashed anyway around the yard, and the men crawled slowly down again,
jammed and bruised against the shrouds by the wind. Every jib and
forestaysail on board having now been torn out, the brig remained under
close-reefed foretopsail, spencer, and spanker, and did little but drift
to leeward. The gale was at its height, blowing as if it were shot out of
the mouths of cannon, and chasing the ocean before it in mountains of
foam. One thing after another went; the topgallants shook loose and had to
be sent down; the chain bobstays parted and the martingale slued out of
place; one of the anchors broke its fastenings and hammered at the side;
the galley gave way and went slopping into the lee scuppers. No food that
morning except dry crackers and cold beef; all hands laboring exhaustingly
to repair damages and make things taut. For more than half an hour three
men were out on the guys and backropes endeavoring to reset the
martingale, deluged over and over by seas, and at last driven in beaten.
Others were relashing the galley, hauling the loose anchor and all the
anchors up on the rail, and resetting the loose lee rigging, which
threatened at every lurch to let the masts go by the