ms. Then came the opposite roll to port, with a
clanging shut of the iron doors; and a hundred tons of sea sloshed
outboard across the port-rail, while all the iron doors on that side
opened wide and gushed. And all this time, it must not be forgotten, the
_Elsinore_ was dashing ahead through the sea.

The only sail she carried was three upper-topsails. Not the tiniest
triangle of headsail was on her. I had never seen her with so little
wind-surface, and the three narrow strips of canvas, bellied to the
seemingness of sheet-iron with the pressure of the wind, drove her before
the gale at astonishing speed.

As the water on the deck subsided the men on the fife-rail left their
refuge. One group, led by the redoubtable Mr. Pike, strove to capture a
mass of planks and twisted steel. For the moment I did not recognize
what it was. The carpenter, with two men, sprang upon Number Three hatch
and worked hurriedly and fearfully. And I knew why Captain West had
turned tail to the storm. Number Three hatch was a wreck. Among other
things the great timber, called the "strong-back," was broken. He had
had to run, or founder. Before our decks were swept again I could make
out the carpenter's emergency repairs. With fresh timbers he was
bolting, lashing, and wedging Number Three hatch into some sort of
tightness.

When the _Elsinore_ dipped her port-rail under and scooped several
hundred tons of South Atlantic, and then, immediately rolling her
starboard-rail under, had another hundred tons of breaking sea fall in
board upon her, all the men forsook everything and scrambled for life
upon the fife-rail. In the bursting spray they were quite hidden; and
then I saw them and counted them all as they emerged into view. Again
they waited for the water to subside.

The mass of wreckage pursued by Mr. Pike and his men ground a hundred
feet along the deck for'ard, and, as the _Elsinore's_ stern sank down in
some abyss, ground back again and smashed up against the cabin wall. I
identified this stuff as part of the bridge. That portion which spanned
from the mizzen-mast to the 'midship-house was missing, while the
starboard boat on the 'midship-house was a splintered mess.

Watching the struggle to capture and subdue the section of bridge, I was
reminded of Victor Hugo's splendid description of the sailor's battle
with a ship's gun gone adrift in a night of storm. But there was a
difference, I found that Hugo's narrative