arose the first gale of wind experienced since leaving port. The sailors talked of the "Flying Dutchman" as they cowered under any thing which afforded the least shelter. The carpenter was ordered to batten down the hatches, as the water was streaming down below from every wave that broke over the deck, which now frequently happened. The sky was obscured by heavy clouds which flew before the gale. Large masses of vapour rose to windward and broke into various and fantastic forms, presenting rich food to a fanciful imagination. A sea swept the cook's caboose and a portion of the bulwarks away together, and the probabilities of any cooked food for some days seemed very slight. The vessel was running before the wind and sea: it was now too late to permit her being hove to, and she sped wildly forward upon her course: three seamen were at the wheel, and it required their united efforts to prevent the "Big Ann" from broaching to. She rolled tremendously, her timbers creaked, and her whole frame trembled beneath the combined influence of the elements. A shriek of fear from those below was occasionally heard above the din of the storm: there were few of them who did not think that they were in extremis, and every shock the vessel sustained was the signal for a fresh outcry. The gale continued with unabated fury, and Hugh and his companions lay down in their clothes anxiously waiting for the morning. About three o'clock the vessel gave some tremendous lurches, and every article in the cabin seemed imbued with instant life—chests, boxes, tins, mess-water kegs, and some few articles of crockery were smashed against each other—"up the middle and back again;" and in the midst of the uproar, the fastenings of the port which was over Hugh's berth gave way, and a torrent of water dashed into the cabin. Hugh endeavoured to close the opening but it was useless, and in a short time the floor and those who occupied it were com-
