had before experienced.

That night there was little rest on board the _Pharos_. Everyone who
has been "at sea" knows what it is to lie in one's berth on a stormy
night, with the planks of the deck only a few inches from one's nose,
and the water swashing past the little port that _always_ leaks; the
seas striking against the ship; the heavy sprays falling on the
decks; and the constant rattle and row of blocks, spars, and cordage
overhead. But all this was as nothing compared with the state of
things on board the floating light, for that vessel could not rise to
the seas with the comparatively free motions of a ship, sailing
either with or against the gale. She tugged and strained at her
cable, as if with the fixed determination of breaking it, and she
offered all the opposition of a fixed body to the seas.

Daylight, though ardently longed for, brought no relief. The gale
continued with unabated violence. The sea struck so hard upon the
vessel's bows that it rose in great quantities, or, as Ruby expressed
it, in "green seas", which completely swept the deck as far aft as
the quarter-deck, and not unfrequently went completely over the stern
of the ship.

Those "green seas" fell at last so heavily on the skylights that all
the glass was driven in, and the water poured down into the cabins,
producing dire consternation in the minds of those below, who thought
that the vessel was sinking.

"I'm drowned intirely," roared poor Ned O'Connor, as the first of
those seas burst in and poured straight down on his hammock, which
happened to be just beneath the skylight.

Ned sprang out on the deck, missed his footing, and was hurled with
the next roll of the ship into the arms of the steward, who was
passing through the place at the time.

Before any comments could be made the dead-lights were put on, and
the cabins were involved in almost absolute darkness.

"Och! let me in beside ye," pleaded Ned with the occupant of the
nearest berth.

"Awa' wi' ye! Na, na," cried John Watt, pushing the unfortunate man
away. "Cheinge yer wat claes first, an' I'll maybe let ye in, if ye
can find me again i' the dark."

While the Irishman was groping about in search of his chest, one of
the officers of the ship passed him on his way to the companion
ladder, intending to go on deck. Ruby Brand, feeling uncomfortable
below, leaped out of his hammock and followed him. They had both got
about halfway up the ladder when a tremendous sea st