ave better than did their little crew. Murray allowed no one
to be idle. They were employed either in cleaning their arms, mending
their clothes, repairing the rigging, and, when the sea was sufficiently
calm, in fishing. Needham kept up his own spirits, and did his best to
keep up that of his messmates. However, they were to be again severely
tried. One evening, early in October, scud was seen flying rapidly
across the sky, while thick masses of cloud banked up densely in the
horizon. It was Adair's first watch; Murray had been about to turn in.
He cast his eyes around.

"Depend on it, Adair, we are going to have a heavy blow, a regular
tornado will be down on us before long, and the sooner we make
everything snug the better."

Adair doubted whether there would be anything more than a squall. Just
then the sails flapped ominously, and there was a perfect calm. The
flame of a candle brought on deck would have ascended straight upwards.

"Adair, I tell you it will be down on us in a few minutes, and with
terrific force too," exclaimed Murray. "All hands shorten sail!" Not a
moment was to be lost; Needham and the rest saw that. With the
exception of the fore-staysail every sail was lowered and carefully
stowed; the topmasts were struck, and everything on deck was lashed and
secured. All the time a dead calm continued, the atmosphere was
dreadfully close, so that even on deck at times it seemed difficult to
breathe, while all around became darker and darker. Suddenly a sound,
like heavy thunder, was heard in the distance.

"It is the beginning of the strife--the first gun fired in action. Look
there, what do you say to that?" He pointed to a bank of foam which was
seen rolling up through the dense gloom towards the devoted little
vessel.

"Why, I suspect that we shall find ourselves in the midst of a sea which
will pretty nearly swamp us," answered Adair.

On it came, rolling and leaping, as if eager to destroy the little
craft. No sooner did her head feel the force of the gale than off, like
a sea-bird on the wing, she flew before it. The fore-staysail was now
stowed, for, from the fury of the tornado, it would either have been
torn out of the bolt-rope or run the vessel under water. On flew the
little craft, the sea every instant getting up and the wind freshening.

"Hold on, all of you; hold on for your lives!" sang out Murray with
startling energy.

The caution was not ill-timed. On came a m