waited some two weeks, mending our cracks, and hoping for a
change of weather. But the gale roared on, defying us to get our nose
out of port, and sending in on us wrecks and castaways which promised us
a hot welcome from the open channel.

But after about two weeks the wind slackened and shifted a point from
the seaward. So, although the waves still ran high, we put out, and
with short sail laboured towards Cherbourg.

This storm suited Ludar's humour, and while all of us whistled for fair
weather, his spirits rose as he turned his face to windward, and watched
the good ship stagger through the waves. Of his own accord he
volunteered to help among the seamen, and ordered me to do the same.
And the captain was very glad of the aid; for it was all the crew could
do to keep the _Misericorde_ taut and straight in her course.

When we came off Cherbourg we resolved to lose no more time by putting
in; and finding our timbers sound and our canvas well in the wind, we
stood out for Ushant.

But Master Petrie repented, a day out, that he had been so hardy. For
the nearer we struggled to the open ocean, the greater grew the seas,
which presently broke across our bows with a force that made every
timber creak, and laid us over almost on our beam-ends. It was soon
more than we could do to carry any but a reefed foresail; and all day
long some of us were hard at work at the pumps.

How long we laboured thus I can hardly say. It must have been three
weeks or more before we breasted Ushant; and by that time the water was
gaining on us in the hold, and our victuals had fallen short. Whether
we liked it or not, we must try to make Brest, and Heaven would need to
work a miracle on our behalf if we were to do that.

Our captain, brave man as he was, lost courage when he found the water
coming higher in the hold, and saw the _Misericorde_ labour harder with
every new wave and ship more water each time than the last. As for the
men, they gave up the labour at the pumps in despair, and took to what
liquor they could find to drown their terrors.

But Ludar alone never lost heart or head. He took charge of the
deserted helm, and bade the seamen cut away spars and throw over cargo.
And they obeyed him, as they would their captain, and plucked up a
little spirit at sight of his courage.

"Humphrey," said he, on a night when, although the gale was slackening
fast, it was plain, even to him, the end of this voyage was near, "you