What happened next, what was done, I do not know, save that now and
again I heard the Gabriel voice; for the darkness came, and the rain
in pouring, horizontal sheets. It filled my mouth and strangled my
lungs as if I had fallen overboard. It seemed to drive up as well as
down, piercing its way under my sou'wester, through my oilskins, down
my tight-buttoned collar, and into my sea-boots. I was dizzied,
obfuscated, by all this onslaught of thunder, lightning, wind,
blackness, and water. And yet the master, near to me, there on the
poop, lived and moved serenely in all, voicing his wisdom and will to
the wisps of creatures who obeyed and by their brute, puny strength
pulled braces, slacked sheets, dragged courses, swung yards and
lowered them, hauled on buntlines and clewlines, smoothed and
gasketed the huge spreads of canvas.

How it happened I know not, but Miss West and I crouched together,
clinging to the rail and to each other in the shelter of the
thrumming weather-cloth. My arm was about her and fast to the
railing; her shoulder pressed close against me, and by one hand she
held tightly to the lapel of my oilskin.

An hour later we made our way across the poop to the chart-house,
helping each other to maintain footing as the Elsinore plunged and
bucked in the rising sea and was pressed over and down by the weight
of wind on her few remaining set sails. The wind, which had lulled
after the rain, had risen in recurrent gusts to storm violence. But
all was well with the gallant ship. The crisis was past, and the
ship lived, and we lived, and with streaming faces and bright eyes we
looked at each other and laughed in the bright light of the chart-
room.