Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail."

The wind suddenly veered round and blew off shore quite fresh. The
vessel stood well off during the night, and the Captain hoped to make
the harbour sometime the next morning, but toward daylight a fog began
to settle down fast and thick. Captain Godfrey fully realized the
perilous position of all on board, but having been early trained in
seamanship, he had full confidence in his ability to manage the sloop.

In the morning land could not be seen. The fog continued for three days,
during which time (to use the Captain's words) "the situation was dismal
enough, and every moment I was expecting to see the craft drawn on the
rocks and all on board perish." The fourth day the fog was less dense,
and those on board could see for some distance, but the sun was
invisible, and the war of the elements was raging with increasing fury.
In the afternoon the wind had shifted to north-west and increased to a
partial gale. The sloop was running under a bit of mainsail; it seemed
at times as if the following seas would founder the little vessel as
they towered over the low rail. Nothing was to be seen but the wide
expanse of water. Not even a solitary gull. The Captain remarked to his
wife, "It is a curious fact that, excepting the petrels, sea birds keep
near to the land in bad weather." Captain Godfrey feared the night, and
as it came on the wind grew in strength. A terrible sea was running, and
all were fastened below excepting Paul and the Captain. The Indian would
not leave the deck, although more than once he was nearly washed
overboard. At length darkness covered the face of the ocean, and the
wind howled in all its fury. The seas were like mountains, tossing the
sloop about like a cork. Mrs. Godfrey would remain below no longer. She
told her children, who were tumbling like nine-pins about the cabin
floor, not to cry, as she would soon return to them. As she put her head