on of the power of the gale,
while on deck, that opinion was materially heightened when I came to feel
its gusts, on the main-top-sail-yard. It was not an easy matter to hold on
at all; and to work, required great readiness and strength. Nevertheless,
I got the sail loose, and then I went down and aided Marble and the cook
to drag home the sheets. Home, they could not be dragged by us,
notwithstanding we got up a luff; but we made the sail stand
reasonably well.

The ship immediately felt the effect of even this rag of canvass. She
drove ahead at a prodigious rate, running, I make no question, some eleven
or twelve knots, under the united power collected by her hamper and this
one fragment of a sail. Her drift was unavoidably great, and I thought the
current sucked her in towards the land; but, on the whole, she kept at
about the same distance from the shore, foaming along it, much as we had
seen the frigate do, the day before. At the rate we were going, twelve or
fifteen hours would carry us down to the passage between Holy Head and
Ireland, when we should get more sea-room, on account of the land's
trending again to the westward.

Long, long hours did Marble and I watch the progress of our ship that day
and the succeeding night, each of us taking our tricks at the wheel, and
doing seaman's duty, as well as that of mate and master. All this time,
the vessel was dashing furiously out towards the Atlantic, which she
reached ere the morning of the succeeding day. Just before he light
returned we were whirled past a large ship that was lying-to, under a
single storm-stay-sail, and which I recognised as the frigate that had
taken a look at us at our anchorage. The cutter was close at hand, and the
fearful manner in which these two strong-handed vessels pitched and
lurched, gave me some idea of what must be our situation, should we be
compelled to luff to the wind. I supposed they had done so, in order to
keep as long as possible, on their cruising ground, near the chops of the
Irish channel.

A wild scene lay around us, at the return of light. The Atlantic resembled
a chaos of waters, the portions of the rolling sheet that were not white
with foam, looking green and angry. The clouds hid the sun, and the gale
seemed to be fast coming to its height. At ten, we drove past an American,
with nothing standing but his foremast. Like us, he was running off,
though we went three feet to his two. Half an hour later, we had the awf