f time she will scud before a gale without
"pooping" a sea, or taking such heavy water on board over her sides
as to do serious damage. Some ships are very dangerous to run at all.
Endeavouring to make the best use of the gale which is blowing in the
right direction, the captain "hangs on" to all the sail he can carry,
until she ships a mighty mass of water over all, so that the decks
are filled with wreckage, or, worse still, "poops" a sea. The latter
experience is a terrible one, even to a trained seaman. You are running
before the wind and waves, sometimes deep in the valley between two
liquid mountains, sometimes high on the rolling ridge of one. You watch
anxiously the speed of the sea, trying to decide whether it or you are
going the faster, when suddenly there seems to be a hush, almost a
lull, in the uproar. You look astern, and see a wall of water rising
majestically higher and higher, at the same time drawing nearer and
nearer. Instinctively you clutch at something firm, and hold your
breath. Then that mighty green barrier leans forward, the ship's stern
seems to settle at the same time, and, with a thundering noise as of
an avalanche descending, it overwhelms you. Of course the ship's way is
deadened; she seems like a living thing overburdened, yet struggling to
be free; and well it is for all hands if the helmsman be able to keep
his post and his wits about him. For if he be hurt, or have fled from
the terrible wave, it is an even chance that she "broaches to;" that is
to say, swings round broadside on to the next great wave that follows
relentlessly its predecessor. Then, helpless and vulnerable, she will
most probably be smashed up and founder. Many a good ship has gone with
all hands to the bottom just as simply as that.

In order to avoid such a catastrophe, the proper procedure is to
"heave-to" before the sea has attained so dangerous a height; but even a
landsman can understand how reluctant a shipmaster may be to lie like
a log just drifting, while a more seaworthy ship is flying along at the
rate of, perhaps, three hundred miles a day in the desired direction.
Ships of the CACHALOT's bluff build are peculiarly liable to delays of
this kind from their slowness, which, if allied to want of buoyancy,
makes it necessary to heave-to in good time, if safety is at all cared
for.

To my great astonishment and delight, however, our grand old vessel
nobly sustained her character, running on without shipping a