the sun, and certain clouds that had risen above the
horizon were carrying windgalls in their skirts. I drew Mendouca's
attention to these portents, and he agreed with me that we were probably
about to have bad weather. And sure enough we had, for that afternoon
it came on to blow heavily from the eastward, and after running before
it as long as we dared--indeed a good deal longer than in my opinion was
at all prudent--we were compelled to heave-to; and we thus remained for
sixty-two consecutive hours, during which Mendouca fumed and raved like
a madman; for the sea was making clean breaches over the brigantine
during the whole of that time, so that a considerable portion of our
bulwarks and everything that was not securely lashed was washed away,
and, worst of all, it was imperatively necessary to keep the hatches
battened down during the entire continuance of the gale, thus depriving
the unhappy slaves pent up below of all air save such as could penetrate
through a small opening in the fore-bulkhead, communicating with the
forecastle, and used for the purpose of gaining access to the hold in
bad weather, in order to supply the slaves with food and water. As,
however, the sea was breaking more heavily over the fore-deck than
anywhere else, the utmost care had to be exercised in opening the
fore-scuttle, a favourable opportunity having to be watched for, and the
hatch whipped off and on again in a moment. Very little air, therefore,
was obtainable from that source, and none whatever from elsewhere; the
blacks, therefore, were dying below like rotten sheep, of suffocation,
as was reported by those who came up from time to time after attending
to the most pressing wants of the miserable creatures. And to make what
was already bad enough still worse, it was impossible to remove the dead
from among the living so long as the bad weather continued.

When at length the gale moderated and the sea went down sufficiently to
permit of sail being once more made, the hatches were lifted; and never
to my dying day shall I forget the awful, poisonous stench that arose
from the brigantine's hold. The fumes could be actually _seen_ rising
through the hatchway in the form of a dense steam that continued to pour
up for several minutes, and when the men were ordered below to pass up
the dead bodies, even the toughest and most hardened of them recoiled
from the task, and staggered away forward literally as sick as dogs. At
length, ho