tern, within hailing
distance, and the signal-quarter-master ran up our ensign to the gaff.

"Ship ahoy!" cried the Lieutenant of the Watch, through his trumpet.

"Halloa!" bawled an old fellow in a green jacket, clap-ping one hand to
his mouth, while he held on with the other to the mizzen-shrouds.

"What ship's that?"

"The Sultan, Indiaman, from New York, and bound to Callao and Canton,
sixty days out, all well. What frigate's that?"

"The United States ship Neversink, homeward bound." "Hurrah! hurrah!
hurrah!" yelled our enthusiastic countryman, transported with
patriotism.

By this time the Sultan had swept past, but the Lieutenant of the Watch
could not withhold a parting admonition.

"D'ye hear? You'd better take in some of your flying-kites there. Look
out for Cape Horn!"

But the friendly advice was lost in the now increasing wind. With a
suddenness by no means unusual in these latitudes, the light breeze
soon became a succession of sharp squalls, and our sail-proud
braggadacio of an India-man was observed to let everything go by the
run, his t'-gallant stun'-sails and flying-jib taking quick leave of
the spars; the flying-jib was swept into the air, rolled together for a
few minutes, and tossed about in the squalls like a foot-ball. But the
wind played no such pranks with the more prudently managed canvas of
the Neversink, though before many hours it was stirring times with us.

About midnight, when the starboard watch, to which, I belonged, was
below, the boatswain's whistle was heard, followed by the shrill cry of
"_All hands take in sail_! jump, men, and save ship!"

Springing from our hammocks, we found the frigate leaning over to it so
steeply, that it was with difficulty we could climb the ladders leading
to the upper deck.

Here the scene was awful. The vessel seemed to be sailing on her side.
The main-deck guns had several days previous been run in and housed,
and the port-holes closed, but the lee carronades on the quarter-deck
and forecastle were plunging through the sea, which undulated over them
in milk-white billows of foam. With every lurch to leeward the
yard-arm-ends seemed to dip in the sea, while forward the spray dashed
over the bows in cataracts, and drenched the men who were on the
fore-yard. By this time the deck was alive with the whole strength of
the ship's company, five hundred men, officers and all, mostly clinging
to the weather bulwarks. The occasional phosphorescence