"Bad weather coming, sir!" said my mate.
"Do you think so?" I answered, not wishing my own opinion to get to the
ears of Cecile, as she would be frightened enough before morning.
But I stepped aft, and told M. Andre. The brave merchant groaned, and
wished he was in bed at Benevent. But wishing will not take one there.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was in the small hours. We men were all on deck. We were driving
along at a fearful rate under bare poles. The waves were huge
mountains. The storm raged with fury. The night was pitchy dark.
Thunder and lightning did not serve to make things more agreeable. Not
a seaman on board had ever seen such a night. It was necessary to lash
oneself to the vessel to avoid being washed overboard.
Of a sudden there was a terrific crash!
The women below shrieked and prayed.
The _chef_ wanted to jump overboard.