<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></SPAN>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
<h3>CAPTAIN NIELSEN.</h3>
<p>Captain Nielsen, was veritably corpse-like in aspect viewed by the cold
gray iron light sifting through the little windows out of the
spray-shrouded air. The unnatural brightness of his eyes painfully
defined the attenuation of his face, and the sickly, parchment-like
complexion of his skin. He extended his hand, but could hardly find time
to deliver a greeting, so violent was his hurry to receive his
daughter's report. He shook his head when he heard that his
topgallant-mast and jibbooms were wrecked, and passionately exclaimed in
Danish, on his daughter telling him of the increase of water in the
hold.</p>
<p>'She must be taking it in from below,' he then cried in English. 'She
has strained herself. Should this continue, what is to be done? She will
need to be constantly pumped—and ah, my God! you are but two.'</p>
<p>'Yes, Captain,' cried I, incensed that he should appear to have no
thoughts but for his ship; 'but if you do not insist upon your daughter
taking some rest there will be but one, long before this gale has blown
itself out.'</p>
<p>'Oh, my dear, it is so!' he exclaimed, looking at her on a sudden with
impassioned concern. 'Mr. Tregarthen is right. You will sink under your
efforts. Your dear heart will break. Rest now—rest, my beloved child! I
command you to rest! You must go below: you must lie in your own cabin.
This good gentleman is about—he will sit with me and go forth and
report. The <i>Anine</i> tends herself, and there is nothing in human skill
to help her outside what she can herself do.'</p>
<p>'But we must not starve, father,' she answered: 'let us first breakfast,
as best we can, and then I will go below.'</p>
<p>She left the cabin and promptly returned, bringing with her the remains
of the cold meat we had supped off, some biscuit, and a bottle of red
wine. Her father drank a little of the wine and ate a morsel of
biscuit; indeed, food seemed to excite a loathing in him. I saw that
Helga eyed him piteously, but she did not press him to eat: it might be
that she had experience of his stubbornness. She said, in a soft aside,
to me: 'His appetite is leaving him, and how can I tempt him without the
means of cooking? Does not he look very ill this morning?'</p>
<p>'It is worry, added to rheumatic pains,' said I: 'we must get him ashore
as soon as possible, where he can be nursed in comfort.'</p>
<p>But though these words flowed readily, out of my sympathy with the poor,
brave, suffering girl, they were assuredly not in correspondence with my
secret feelings. It was not only I was certain that Captain Nielsen lay
in his cot a dying man; the roaring of the wind, the beating of the sea
against the barque, the wild extravagant leapings and divings, the
perception that water was draining into the hold, and that there were
but two of us—and one of those two a girl—to work the pumps, made a
mockery to my heart of my reference to the Captain getting ashore and
being nursed there.</p>
<p>We sat in that slanting and leaping interior with plates on our knees.
The girl feigned to eat; her head drooped with weariness, yet I noticed
that she would force a cheerful note into the replies she made to her
father's ceaseless feverish questions. When we had ended our meal, she
left us to go below to her cabin; but before leaving she asked me, with
eyes full of tender pleading, to keep her father's heart up, to make the
best of such reports as I might have to give him after going out to take
a look round; and she told me that he would need his physic at such and
such a time, and so lingered, dwelling upon him and glancing at him; and
then she went out in a hurry with one hand upon her breast, yet not so
swiftly but that I could see her eyes were swimming.</p>
<p>'There is a barometer in the cabin,' said Captain Nielsen; 'will you
tell me how the mercury stands?'</p>
<p>The glass was fixed to the bulkhead outside. I returned and gave him the
reading.</p>
<p>''Tis a little rise!' he cried, with his unnaturally bright eyes eagerly
fastened upon me.</p>
<p>I would not tell him that it was not so—that the mercury, indeed, stood
at the level I had observed on the preceding day in my glass in the
lifeboat house.</p>
<p>'Fierce weather of this sort,' said I, 'soon exhausts itself.'</p>
<p>He continued to stare at me, but now with an air of musing that somewhat
softened the painful brilliant intentness of his regard.</p>
<p>'I pray God,' said he, 'that this weather may speedily enable us to
obtain help, for I fear that if I am not treated I shall get very low,
perhaps die. I am ill—yet what is my malady? This rheumatism is a
sudden seizure. I could walk when at Cuxhaven.'</p>
<p>In as cheerful a voice as I could assume, I begged him to consider that
his mind might have much to do with those bodily sensations which made
him feel ill.</p>
<p>'It may be so, it may be so,' he exclaimed, with a sad smile of
faltering hope. 'I wish to live. I am not an old man. It will be hard if
my time is to come soon. It is Helga—it is Helga,' he muttered,
pressing his brow with his thin hand. I was about to speak. 'How
wearisome,' he broke out, 'is this ceaseless tossing! I ran away to sea;
it was my own doing. I had my childish dreams—strange and beautiful
fancies of foreign countries—and I ran away;' he went on in a rambling
manner like one thinking aloud. 'And yet I love the old ocean, though it
is serving me cruelly now. It has fed me—it has held me to its
breast—and my nourishment and life have come from it.' He started, and,
bringing his eyes away from the upper deck on which they had been fixed
while he spoke, he cried, 'Sir, you are a stranger to me, but you are an
Englishman of heroic heart, and you will forgive me. Should I die, and
should God be pleased to spare you and my child, will you protect her
until she has safely returned to her friends at Kolding? She will be
alone in any part of the world until she is there, and if I am assured
that she will have the generous compassion of your heart with her, a
guardian to take my place until she reaches Kolding, it will make me
easy in my ending, let the stroke come when it will.'</p>
<p>'I came to this ship to save your lives,' I answered. 'I hope to be an
instrument yet of helping to save them. Trust me to do your bidding, if
it were only for my admiration of your daughter's heroic qualities. But
do not speak of dying, Captain Nielsen——'</p>
<p>He interrupted me. 'There is my dear friend Pastor Blicker of Kolding,
and there is Pastor Jansen of Skandrup. They are good and gentle
Christian men, who will receive Helga, and stand by her and soothe her
and counsel her as to my little property—ah, my little property!' he
cried. 'If this vessel founders, what have I?'</p>
<p>'Pray,' said I, with the idea of quietly coaxing his mind into a more
cheerful mood, 'what is so seriously wrong with you, Captain, that you
should lie there gloomily foreboding your death? Such rheumatism as
yours is not very quick to kill.'</p>
<p>'I was long dangerously ill of a fever in the West Indies,' he answered,
'and it left a vital organ weak. The mischief is here, I fear,' said he,
touching his right side above his hip. 'I felt very ill at Cuxhaven; but
this voyage was to be made; I am too poor a man to suffer my health to
forfeit the money that is to be got by it. Hark! what was that?'</p>
<p>He leaned his head over the cot, straining his hearing with a nervous
fluttering of his emaciated fingers. It was miserable to see how white
the skin of his sunken cheeks showed against the whiteness of the
canvas of his cot.</p>
<p>'I heard nothing,' I answered.</p>
<p>'It was the noise of a blow,' he exclaimed. 'Pray go and see if anything
is wrong,' he added, speaking out of his habit of giving orders, and
with a peremptoriness that forced a smile from me as I went to the door.</p>
<p>I made my way through the house on to the deck, and looked about me, but
it was the same scene to stare at and hearken to that I had viewed
before: the same thunder and shriek of wind, the same clouding of the
forward part of the barque in foam, the same miserable dismal picture of
water flashing from bulwark to bulwark, of high green frothing seas
towering past the line of the rail as the vessel swung in a smother of
seething yeast into the trough.</p>
<p>I caught sight of a long hencoop abaft the structure in which the
sailors had lived, with the red gleam of a cockscomb betwixt a couple of
the bars, and guessing that the wretched inmates must, by this time, be
in sore need of food and water, I very cautiously made my way to the
coop, holding on by something at every step. The coop was, indeed, full
of poultry, but all lay drowned.</p>
<p>I returned to the deck-house and mounted on top of it, where I should be
able to obtain a good view of as much of the ocean as was exposed, and
where also I should be out of the wet which, on the main deck, rolled
with weight enough at times to sweep a man off his legs. The roof of the
house, if I may so term it, was above the rail, and the whole fury of
the gale swept across it. I never could have guessed at the
hurricane-force of the wind while standing on the deck beneath. It was
impossible to face it; if I glanced but one instant to windward my eyes
seemed to be blown into my head.</p>
<p>I had not gained that elevation above a minute when I heard a sharp
rattling aloft, and, looking upwards, I perceived that the main royal
had blown loose. For the space of a breath or two it made the rattling
noise that had called my attention to it, then the whole bladder-like
body of it was swept in a flash away from the yard, and nothing remained
but a whip or two streaming straight out like white hair from the spar.
A moment later the maintopgallantsail, that had been, no doubt, hastily
and badly furled, was blown out of the gaskets. I thought to see it go
as the royal had, but while I watched, waiting for the flight of the
rags of it down into the leeward gloom of the sky, the mast snapped off
at the cap at the instant of the sail bursting and disappearing like a
gush of mist, and down fell the whole mass of hamper to a little below
the stay, under which it madly swung, held by its gear.</p>
<p>This disaster, comparatively trifling as it was, gave the whole fabric a
most melancholy, wrecked look. It affected me in a manner I should not
have thought possible in one who knew so much about the sea and
shipwreck as I. It impressed me as an omen of approaching dissolution.
'What, in God's name, can save us?' I remember thinking, as I brought my
eyes away from the two broken masts, swinging and spearing high up under
the smoke-coloured, compacted, apparently stirless heaps of vapour
stretching from sea-line to sea-line. 'What put together by mortal hands
can go on resisting this ceaseless, tremendous beating?' and as I thus
thought the vessel, with a wild sweep of her bow, smote a giant surge
rushing laterally at her, and a whole green sea broke roaring over the
forecastle, making every timber in her tremble with a volcanic thrill,
and entirely submerging the forepart in white waters, out of which she
soared with a score of cataracts flying in smoke from her sides.</p>
<p>I looked for the flag that Helga and I had half-masted a little while
before; it had as utterly disappeared from betwixt its toggles as though
the bunting had been ripped up and down by a knife. As I was in the act
of dragging myself along to the ladder to go below, I spied a sort of
smudge oozing out of the iron-hued thickness past the head of a great
sea whose arching peak was like a snow-clad hill. I crouched down to
steady myself, and presently what I had at first thought to be some dark
shadow of cloud upon the near horizon grew into the proportions of a
large ship, running dead before the gale under a narrow band of
main-topsail.</p>
<p>She was heading to pass under our stern, and rapidly drew out, and in a
few minutes I had her clear—clean and bright as a new painting against
the background of shadow, along whose dingy, misty base the ocean line
was washing in flickering green heights. She was a large steam frigate,
clearly a foreigner, for I do not know that our country had a ship of
the kind afloat at the time. She had a white band broken by ports, and
the black and gleaming defences of her bulwarks were crowned with stowed
hammocks. Her topgallant-masts were housed, and the large cross-trees
and huge black tops and wide spread of shrouds gave her a wonderfully
heavy, massive ship-of-war look aloft. The band of close-reefed
main-topsail had the glare of foam as it swung majestically from one
sea-line to the other, slowly swaying across the dark and stooping
heaven with a noble and solemn rhythm of movement. I never could have
imagined a sight to more wholly fascinate my gaze. Always crouching low,
I watched her under the shelter of my hands locked upon my brow. I
beheld nothing living aboard of her. She came along as though informed
by some spirit and government of her own. As her great stem sank to the
figure-head, there arose a magnificent boiling, a mountainous cloud of
froth on either bow of her, and the roar of those riven seas seemed to
add a deeper tone of thunder to the gale. All was taut aboard—every
rope like a ruled line—different, indeed, from our torn and wrecked and
trailing appearance on high! She swept past within a quarter of a mile
of us, and what pen could convey the incredible power suggested by that
great fabric as her stern lifted to the curl of the enormous Atlantic
surge, and the whole ship rushed forward on the hurling froth of the sea
with an electric velocity that brought the very heart into one's throat.</p>
<p>She was a mere smudge again—this time to leeward—in a few minutes. I
could only stare at her. Our flag had blown away, I was without power to
signal, and, even if I had been able to communicate our condition of
distress, what help could she have offered? What could she have done for
us in such a sea as was now running? Yet the mere sight of her had
heartened me. She made me feel that help could never be wanting in an
ocean so ploughed by keels as the Atlantic.</p>
<p>I crawled down on to the quarter-deck, and returned to the Captain's
cabin. The poor man at once fell with feverish eagerness to questioning
me. I told him honestly that the maintopgallant-mast had carried away
while I was on deck, but that there was nothing else wrong that I could
distinguish; that the barque was still making a noble fight, though
there were times when the seas broke very fiercely and dangerously over
the forecastle.</p>
<p>He wagged his head with a gesture of distress, crying: 'So it is! so it
is! One spar after another, and thus may we go to pieces!'</p>
<p>I told him of the great steam frigate that had passed, but to this piece
of news he listened with a vacant look, and apparently could think of
nothing but his spars. He asked in a childish, fretful way how long
Helga had been below, and I answered him stoutly, 'Not nearly long
enough for sleep.'</p>
<p>'Ay,' cried he, 'but the barque needs to be pumped, sir.'</p>
<p>'Your daughter will work the better for rest,' said I; and then looking
at my watch, I found it was time to give him his physic.</p>
<p>He exclaimed, looking at the wineglass, 'There is no virtue in this
stuff! The sufferer can make but one use of it.' And, still preserving a
manner of curious childishness, he emptied the contents of the glass
over the edge of his cot on to the deck, and, as he swung, lay watching
the mess of it on the floor with a smile. I guessed that expostulation
would be fruitless, and, indeed, having but very little faith myself in
any sort of physic, I secretly applauded his behaviour.</p>
<p>I sat down upon the locker, and leaning my back against the bulkhead,
endeavoured, by conversation, to bring a cheerful look to his
countenance; but his mood of depression was not to be conquered. At
times he would ramble a little, quote passages from Danish plays in his
native tongue, then pause with his head on one side, as though waiting
for me to applaud what he forgot I did not understand.</p>
<p>'How fine is this from "Palnatoke"!' he would cry, or, 'Hark to this
from that noble performance "Hacon Yarl"! Ah, it is England alone can
match Oehlenschläger.'</p>
<p>I could only watch him mutely. Then he would break away to bewail his
spars again, and to cry out that Helga would be left penniless, would be
a poor beggar-girl, if his ship foundered.</p>
<p>'But is not the <i>Anine</i> insured?' said I.</p>
<p>'Yes,' he answered; 'but not by me. I was obliged to borrow money upon
her, and she is insured by the man who lent me the money.'</p>
<p>'But you have an interest in the cargo, Captain Nielsen?'</p>
<p>'Ay,' cried he, 'and that I insured; but what will it be worth to my
poor little Helga?' And he hid his face in his hands and rocked himself.</p>
<p>However, he presently grew somewhat composed, and certainly more
rational, and after awhile I found myself talking about Tintrenale, my
home and associations, my lifeboat excursions, and the like; and then we
conversed upon the course that was to be adopted should the weather
moderate and find us still afloat. 'We should be able to do nothing,' he
said, 'without assistance from a passing ship,' in the sense of
obtaining a few sailors to work the barque; or a steamer might come
along that would be willing to give us a tow.</p>
<p>'The Land's End cannot be far off,' said he.</p>
<p>'No,' said I, 'not if this gale means to drop to-day. But it will be far
enough off if it is to go on blowing.'</p>
<p>He inquired what I made the drift to be, and then calculated that the
English coast would now be bearing about east-north-east, sixty miles
distant. 'Let the wind chop round,' cried he, with a gleam in his sunken
eye, 'and you and Helga would have the <i>Anine</i> in the Channel before
midnight.'</p>
<p>We continued to talk in this strain, and he seemed to forget the
wretchedness of our situation; then suddenly he called out to know the
time, abruptly breaking away from what he was saying.</p>
<p>'Hard upon eleven o'clock,' said I.</p>
<p>'This will not do!' he cried. 'The barque, as we talk, is filling under
our feet. The well should be sounded. Helga must be called. I beseech
you to call Helga,' he repeated nervously, smiting the side of his cot
with his clenched hand. 'Ah, God!' he added, 'that I should be without
the power to move!'</p>
<p>'I will sound the well,' said I. 'Should I find an increase, I will
arouse your daughter.'</p>
<p>'Go, I beg of you!' he cried, in high notes. 'The barque seems sodden to
me. She does not lift and fall as she did.'</p>
<p>I guessed this to be imagination; but the mere fancy of such a thing
being true frightened me also, and I hastily went out. I dried the rod
and chalked it as Helga had, and, watching my chance, dropped it, and
found five inches of water above the level our last spell at the pump
had left in the hold. I was greatly startled, and to make sure that my
first cast was right, I sounded a second time, and sure enough the rod
showed five inches, as before. I hastened with the news to the Captain.</p>
<p>'I knew it! I feared it!' he cried, his voice shrill with a very ecstasy
of hurry, anxiety, and sense of helplessness that worked in him. 'Call
Helga!—lose not an instant—run, I beg you will run!'</p>
<p>'But run where?' cried I. 'Where does the girl sleep?'</p>
<p>'Go down the hatchway in the deck-house,' he shouted in shrill accents,
as though bent upon putting into this moment the whole of his remaining
slender stock of vitality. 'There are four cabins under this deck. Hers
is the aftermost one on the starboard side. Don't delay! If she does not
instantly answer, enter and arouse her.' And as I sped from the cabin I
heard him crying that he knew by the motions of the ship she was
filling rapidly, and that she would go down on a sudden like lead.</p>
<p>It was a black, square trap of hatchway into which I looked a moment
before putting my legs over. There was a short flight of almost
perpendicular steps conducting to the lower deck. On my descending I
found the place so dark that I was forced to halt till my eyes should
grow used to the obscurity. There was a disagreeable smell of cargo down
here, and such a heart-shaking uproar of straining timbers, of creaking
bulkheads, of the thumps of seas, and the muffled, yearning roar of the
giant waters sweeping under the vessel, that for a little while I stood
as one utterly bewildered.</p>
<p>Soon, however, I managed to distinguish outlines, and, with outstretched
hands and wary legs, made my way to the cabin Captain Nielsen had
indicated, and beat upon the door. There was no response. I beat again,
listening, scarcely thinking, perhaps, that the girl would require a
voice as keen as a boatswain's pipe to thread the soul-confounding and
brain-muddling clamour in this after-deck of the storm-beaten barque.
'He bade me enter,' thought I, 'and enter I must if the girl is to be
aroused;' and I turned the handle of the door and walked in.</p>
<p>Helga lay, attired as she had left the deck, in an upper bunk, through
the porthole of which the daylight, bright with the foam, came and went
upon her face as the vessel at one moment buried the thick glass of the
scuttle in the green blindness of the sea, and then lifted it weeping
and gleaming into the air. Her head was pillowed on her arm; her hair in
the weak light showed as though touched by a dull beam of the sun. Her
eyes were sealed—their long lashes put a delicate shading under them;
her white face wore a sweet expression of happy serenity, and I could
believe that some glad vision was present to her. Her lips were parted
in the expression of a smile.</p>
<p>There was a feeling in me as of profanity in this intrusion, and of
wrongdoing in the obligation forced upon me of waking her from a
peaceful, pleasant, all-important repose to face the bitter hardships
and necessities of that time of tempest. But for my single pair of arms
the pump was too much, and she must be aroused. I lightly put my hand
upon hers, and her smile was instantly more defined, as though my
action were coincident with some phase of her dream. I pressed her hand;
she sighed deeply, looked at me, and instantly sat up with a little
frown of confusion.</p>
<p>'Your father begged me to enter and arouse you,' said I. 'I was unable
to make you hear by knocking. I have sounded the well, and there is an
increase of five inches.'</p>
<p>'Ah!' she exclaimed, and sprang lightly out of her bunk.</p>
<p>In silence and with amazing despatch, seeing that a few seconds before
she was in a deep sleep, she put on her sea-helmet, whipped a
handkerchief round her neck, and was leading the way to the hatch on
buoyant feet.</p>
<p>On gaining the deck I discovered that the wrecked appearance of the ship
aloft had been greatly heightened during my absence below by the
foretopsail having been blown into rags. It was a single sail, and the
few long strips of it which remained blowing out horizontally from the
yards, stiff as crowbars, gave an indescribable character of forlornness
to the fabric. Helga glanced aloft, and immediately perceived that the
maintopgallant-mast had been wrecked, but said nothing, and in a minute
the pair of us were hard at work.</p>
<p>I let go the brake only when my companion was too exhausted to continue;
but now, on sounding the well, we found that our labours had not
decreased the water to the same extent as heretofore. It was impossible,
however, to converse out of shelter; moreover, a fresh danger attended
exposure on deck, for, in addition to the wild sweeping of green seas
forward, to the indescribably violent motions of the barque, which
threatened to break our heads or our limbs for us, to fling us bruised
and senseless against the bulwarks if we relaxed for a moment our hold
of what was next us—in addition to this, I say, there was now the
deadly menace of the topgallant-mast, with its weight of yards, fiercely
swinging and beating right over our heads, and poised there by the
slender filaments of its rigging, which might part and let the whole
mass fall at any moment.</p>
<p>We entered the deck-house, and paused for a little while in its
comparative silence and stagnation to exchange a few words.</p>
<p>'The water is gaining upon the ship, Mr. Tregarthen,' said Helga.</p>
<p>'I fear so,' I answered.</p>
<p>'If it should increase beyond the control of the pumps, what is to be
done?' she asked. 'We are without boats.'</p>
<p>'What <i>can</i> be done?' cried I. 'We shall have to make some desperate
thrust for life—contrive something out of the hencoop—spare
booms—whatever is to be found.'</p>
<p>'What chance—what chance have we in such a sea as this?' she exclaimed,
clasping her hands and looking up at me with eyes large with emotion,
though I found nothing of fear in the shining of them or in the working
of her pale face.</p>
<p>I had no answer to make. Indeed, it put a sort of feeling into the blood
like madness itself even to <i>talk</i> of a raft, with the sound in our ears
of the sea that was raging outside.</p>
<p>'And then there is my father,' she continued, 'helpless—unable to
move—how is he to be rescued? I would lose my life to save his. But
what is to be done if this gale continues?'</p>
<p>'His experience should be of use to us,' said I. 'Let us go and talk
with him.'</p>
<p>She opened the door of the berth, halted, stared a minute, then turned
to me with her forefinger upon her lip. I peered, and found the poor man
fast asleep. I believed at first that he was dead, so still he lay, so
easy was his countenance, so white too; but after watching a moment, I
spied his breast rising and falling. Helga drew close and stood viewing
him. A strange and moving sight was that swinging cot—the revelation of
the deathlike head within, the swaying boyish figure of the daughter
gazing with eyes of love, pity, distress at the sleeping, haggard face,
as it came and went.</p>
<p>She sat down beside me. 'I shall lose him soon,' said she. 'But what is
killing him? He was white and poorly yesterday; but not ill as he is
now.'</p>
<p>It would have been idle to attempt any sort of encouragement. The truth
was as plain to her as to me. I could find nothing better to say than
that the gale might cease suddenly, that a large steam-frigate had
passed us a little while before, that some vessel was sure to heave into
sight when the weather moderated, and that meanwhile our efforts must
be directed to keeping the vessel afloat. I could not again talk of the
raft; it was enough to feel the sickening tossing of the ship under us
to render the thought of <i>that</i> remedy for our state horrible and
hopeless.</p>
<p>The time slowly passed. It was drawing on to one o'clock. I went on deck
to examine the helm and to judge of the weather; then sounded the well,
but found no material increase of water. The barque, however, was
rolling so furiously that it was almost impossible to get a correct
cast. Before re-entering the house, I sent a look round from the shelter
of the weather-bulwark, to observe what materials were to be obtained
for a raft should the weather suffer us to launch such a thing, and the
barque founder spite of our toil. There was a number of spare booms
securely lashed on top of the seamen's deck-house and galley, and these,
with the hencoop and hatch-covers, and the little casks or scuttle-butts
out of which the men drank would provide us with what we needed. But the
contemplation of death itself was not so dreadful to me as the prospect
which this fancy of a raft opened. I hung crouching under the lee of the
tall bulwark, gnawing my lip as thought after thought arose in me, and
digging my finger-nails into the palms of my hands. The suddenness of it
all! The being this time yesterday safe ashore, without the dimmest
imagination of what was to come—the anguish of my poor old mother—the
perishing, as I did not doubt, of my brave comrades of the
lifeboat—then, this vessel slowly taking in water, dying as it were by
inches, and as doomed as though Hell's curse were upon her, unless the
gale should cease and help come!</p>
<p>I could not bear it. I started to my feet with a sense of madness upon
me, with a wild and dreadful desire in me to show mercy to myself by
plunging and by silencing the delirious fancies of my brain in the wide
sweep of seething waters that rushed from the very line of the rail of
the barque as she leaned to her beam-ends in the thunderous trough of
that instant. It was a sort of hysteria that did not last; yet might I
have found temptation and time in the swift passage of it to have
destroyed myself, but for God's hand upon me, as I choose to believe,
and to be ever thankful for.</p>
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