somewhat reassured and comforted to find that, although they talked
of bad weather and cross accidents of the sea, yet the conversation
was carried on in that tone and manner which bespoke ease and
composure of mind.

"Well, lads," said Mr. Stevenson, accosting the men, "what think you
of this state of things? Will the good ship weather it?"

"Nae fear o' her, sir," replied one confidently, "she's light and
new; it'll tak' a heavy sea to sink her."

"Ay," observed another, "and she's got little hold o' the water, good
ground-tackle, and no tophamper; she'll weather anything, sir."

Having satisfied himself that all was right below, Mr. Stevenson
returned aft and went on deck, where a sublime and awful sight
awaited him. The waves appeared to be what we hear sometimes termed
"mountains high". In reality they were perhaps about thirty feet of
unbroken water in height, their foaming crests being swept and torn
by the furious gale. All beyond the immediate neighbourhood of the
ship was black and chaotic.

Upon deck everything movable was out of sight, having either been
stowed away below previous to the gale, or washed overboard. Some
parts of the quarter bulwarks were damaged by the breach of the sea,
and one of the boats was broken, and half-full of water.

There was only one solitary individual on deck, placed there to watch
and give the alarm if the cable should give way, and this man was
Ruby Brand, who, having become tired of having nothing to do, had