bottle, and give him a nip, too. All this took half a minute, perhaps. I
now remember to have heard a strange rushing noise to windward as I went
towards the forward hatch, though it made no impression on me at the time.
We had been lying between the starboard guns, which was the weather side
of the vessel, if there were any weather side to it, there not being a
breath of air, and no motion to the water, and I passed round to the
larboard side, in order to find the ladder, which led up in that
direction. The hatch was so small that two men could not pass at a time,
and I felt my way to it, in no haste. One hand was on the bitts, and a
foot was on the ladder, when a flash of lightning almost blinded me. The
thunder came at the next instant, and with it a rushing of winds that
fairly smothered the clap.

The instant I was aware there was a squall, I sprang for the jib-sheet.
Being captain of the forecastle, I knew where to find it, and throw it
loose at a jerk. In doing this, I jumped on a man named Leonard Lewis, and
called on him to lend me a hand. I next let fly the larboard, or lee
top-sail-sheet, got hold of the clew-line, and, assisted by Lewis, got the
clew half up. All this time I kept shouting to the man at the wheel to put
his helm "hard down." The water was now up to my breast, and I knew the
schooner must go over. Lewis had not said a word, but I called out to him
to shift for himself, and belaying the clew-line, in hauling myself
forward of the foremast, I received a blow from the jib-sheet that came
near breaking my left arm. I did not feel the effect of this blow at the
time, though the arm has since been operated on, to extract a tumour
produced by this very injury.

All this occupied less than a minute. The flashes of lightning were
incessant, and nearly blinded me. Our decks seemed on fire, and yet I
could see nothing. I heard no hail, no order, no call; but the schooner