forward and carrying away a fine cutter off the
larboard skidds, with some of the rails and carlings of the head.

"Where are we going to, Mr Delisle?" exclaimed little Harry, as he
clung to his arm with a look of very natural terror in his countenance.

"To Halifax, in Nova Scotia, I hope," answered Gerrard, laughing.
"Where else should you think?"

"I thought we might be going to the bottom," answered the poor boy with
perfect simplicity; "but I'm not afraid, you know."

"No reason why you should be, Harry," answered Delisle. "The old barkie
will have to swim through many a worse sea than this, let me tell you--
so remember, my boy, you are never in future to begin to be afraid till
you see the rest of us turn pale."

Little Harry promised obedience, and he had before long ample
opportunities of proving his nerves. The seamen, as they hurried about
the decks, shook the water in showers, like Newfoundland dogs from their
shaggy coats; and in a short time we had things put as much to rights as
circumstances would allow.

The gale continued all night, but ceased on the following evening
without having committed further damage, and from that time till the
morning of the tenth we had tolerably fine weather. It then fell a
stark calm, but there was an ominous cold-grey silky look in the sky
which I did not like. The captain was constantly on deck, anxiously
scanning the horizon, and Jonathan Flood, our old master, kept his
weather-eye open, as if apprehensive of evil.

"Vary fine weather this, Mr Hurry," said Andrew Macallan, our surgeon's
mate, who had come to sea for the first time. "Just a wee bit more wind
to waft us on our way to the scene of action, and we may well be
content."

"Wait a bit, doctor, and we shall have wind enough and to spare,"
replied I.

It was not long before my words were verified--though just after that
the appearance of coming bad weather wore off, and even the captain and
master seemed to think that a moderate breeze was all we had to look
for. We were lying with our topsails on the caps and courses hauled up,
when, without a moment's warning, a gust of wind with the force of a
hurricane laid the ship on her beam-ends.

"Up with the helm!" shouted the captain, who had that instant come on
deck. "Brace round the foreyards--trice up--brail up the after sails!"

The helm was put up, but before the canvas could be handed, with claps
like thunder, the main-topmast-staysail and ji