, was upon them, and these southern sailors shivered as they met
the keen northern blasts.

The cold grew sharper than ever on one night toward the end of the year,
but on that very night Master Piero Quirini chose to remain on deck,
braving the winter wind, instead of taking shelter in his warm and
comfortable cabin below. He stood looking eastward with his keen eyes,
his hand shading his face.

"Come hither, Fioravanti," he called, and the sailing-master approached.
"There is a strange appearance in the sky which affrights me; I fear a
sudden, and violent storm, and then what will befall our ship, thus
heavily laden?" said Quirini.

The old sailor turned towards the part of the horizon which Quirini had
pointed out; and as he looked, his face changed. "Quick," said he,
calling to the sailors who were nearest, "bid them draw in the sails.
Let the rudder be bound firmly, for the tempest is well nigh on
us--alas! for these terrible northern storms."

Before he had well finished speaking, his Italian sailors had begun
their work, the slower and more apathetic Greeks needing, even in that
moment of danger, to be urged with many words before they would obey.
Thus it was but slowly that the heavy sails, creaking and swaying in the
wind, were drawn in and bound to the masts, and before half the work was
done, the storm in its full fury had struck the ship, and each man clung
for life to the nearest support, as the reeling vessel ploughed heavily
through the swollen seas.

"Master, the rudder is gone, the rudder is lost," cried many voices, as
after a sudden lurch forward the ship righted again, and as they cried
out, a fresh blast struck her, and the half-furled sails were torn into
ribbons, and hung useless over the ship's side.

The morning light found her still driving before the wind, and deep in
the sullen water which rose almost above her sides as she flew faster
than ever before the fierce wind. At length a sudden squall threw her on
her side, while the waters rushed in as if to fill and sink her in a
moment.

"Ho, men! an axe, an axe!" cried the master; "down with the main-mast!"
and seizing a hatchet which lay at hand, Piero Quirini struck the first
blow at the tall mast, whose weight was dragging down the vessel. Others
with sword, or axe, or any tool which they could snatch at the moment,
followed, and they were but just in time, for before another wave could
wash over the vessel, the mast was floating free