A terrific sight!
You can't sec anything, it is so thick. The sea runs mountain high. The
gallant ship, with creaking masts, drives before the gale and plunges
over the crests of the foaming billows. That is what she was built for.
The thunder peals crash after crash, and occasionally crash before
crash. The lightning's lurid glare illumines, ever and anon, the scene.
The stoutest hold their breath, and if they can't do that, they hold to
a belaying-pin, while the awe-stricken crew in vain attempt to pump out
the hold. All is darkness, except in the binnacle.
We leave the noble vessel to her fate, with the cheering conviction that
she is fully insured.