thinking with Leibnitz, that most sapient of philosophers, that this is
the best of all possible worlds.

On the thirteenth day we encountered a heavy gale, which continued to
increase for four successive days. During this period we were unable to
carry more canvass than was barely necessary to render the vessel
manageable. A heavy gale, for the first time, is rather interesting than
otherwise: the novelty of the sea's appearance--the anxiety of the crew
and officers--the promptitude with which commands are given and
executed--and the excitement produced by the other incidental occurrences,
tend to make even a storm, when encountered in open sea, by no means
destitute of pleasing interest. During this gale, the sailors appeared to
be more than ordinarily anxious only upon one occasion, and then only for
a minute--the circumstance was not calculated to create alarm in the mind
of a person totally ignorant of nautical affairs, but being somewhat of a
sailor, I understood the danger tolerably well. The helm was struck by a
sea, and strained at the bolts; from the concussion occasioned by the
blow, it was apprehended for a moment that it had been carried away.
Without a helm, in such weather, much was to be feared; for her timbers
being old, she could hardly meet the shock of an ocean wave upon her
broadside without suffering serious injury. The helmsman was knocked
down--the captain and mate jumped aft, to ascertain the extent of the
damage; while the sailors scowled along the deck, as they laid their
shoulders to the weather side of the ship--all was anxiety for the
instant. At length the mate cried, "helm all right," and the crew pulled
away as usual. At the close of the fourth day the storm subsided, and we
approached the banks of Newfoundland.

It is generally supposed that the colour of the sea is a sure indication
of the presence or absence of soundings; that is, that there are