ed that the gale was
breaking; but in less than an hour another furious squall struck the
ship, and nearly laid her over on her beam ends. Once more she rose,
her stout canvas having stood the severe trial to which it had been put,
and she rode with comparative ease for a few minutes.

The seas, however, seemed to become more broken than ever. A prodigious
one came roaring towards the weather bow. The _Dragon_ appeared to see
her danger, and struggled to avoid it, but the next instant she pitched
headlong into a deep hollow, when another monstrous wave, rising
apparently half as high as the foretop, fell completely down on her
deck. For a few seconds, her commander and his officers feared that she
would never again rise. No orders could be issued, and nothing could be
done. The crew stood silently at their stations, not uttering a word,
or showing that they felt the fearful predicament in which they were
placed.

The ship remained, as it were, fixed in the sea; then with a sudden jerk
she burst her way through it, but her stout bowsprit was broken short
off, and the next sea threw the wreck of it across the forecastle. The
commander's voice was now heard in tones vying with the howling of the
gale. The crew, obedient to his orders, rushed forward to secure the
bowsprit with lashings; while the boatswain, with another gang, lost not
a moment in setting up fresh stays, to prevent the foremast being
carried away.

This, with the loss of one of the boats, and the forepart of the
bulwarks stove in, were the chief damages hitherto received by the
_Dragon_ during the gale. It was not over, however. Again the sun set,
and the wind continued to rage with unabated fury. The watch below had
been ordered to turn in, but few of the officers had done so, and,
though tired out, still remained on deck. Tom and Archie were standing
aft, close together, when the latter suddenly grasped Tom by the arm.

"Oh, mon! what's that?" he exclaimed, pointing to the main-topmast head,
which appeared crowned by a ball of pale fire.

"It has a curious appearance; though I never saw it before, my brother
Jack has told me about it. It is a sort of Jack-o'-lantern, or
Will-o'-the-wisp, or, as Gerald once called it, `Saint Vitus' dance.' I
believe he meant to say Saint Elmo's fire."

While the midshipmen were gazing up, the flame descended rapidly down
the mast, running first along the main topgallant yardarm, then
returning, down it