the same terms, you are not to resent my telling."

I could not help laughing at this; though I still forewarned him what
would come of it.

"The devil may come of it for what I care," says the reckless fellow. "I
have always done exactly as I felt inclined."

As is well known, my prediction came true. The captain had no sooner
heard the news than he cut his cable and to sea again; and before
morning broke, we were in the Great Minch.

The ship was very old; and the skipper, although the most honest of men
(and Irish too), was one of the least capable. The wind blew very
boisterous, and the sea raged extremely. All that day we had little
heart whether to eat or drink; went early to rest in some concern of
mind; and (as if to give us a lesson) in the night the wind chopped
suddenly into the north-east, and blew a hurricane. We were awaked by
the dreadful thunder of the tempest and the stamping of the mariners on
deck; so that I supposed our last hour was certainly come; and the
terror of my mind was increased out of all measure by Ballantrae, who
mocked at my devotions. It is in hours like these that a man of any
piety appears in his true light, and we find (what we are taught as
babes) the small trust that can be set in worldly friends: I would be
unworthy of my religion if I let this pass without particular remark.
For three days we lay in the dark in the cabin, and had but a biscuit to
nibble. On the fourth the wind fell, leaving the ship dismasted and
heaving on vast billows. The captain had not a guess of whither we were
blown; he was stark ignorant of his trade, and could do naught but bless
the Holy Virgin; a very good thing too, but scarce the whole of
seamanship. It seemed, our one hope was to be picked up by another
vessel; and if that should prove to be an English ship, it might be no
great blessing to the Master and myself.

The fifth and sixth days we tossed there helpless. The seventh some sail
was got on her, but she was an unwieldy vessel at the best, and we made
little but leeway. All the time, indeed, we had been drifting to the
south and west, and during the tempest must have driven in that
direction with unheard-of violence. The ninth dawn was cold and black,
with a great sea running, and every mark of foul weather. In this
situation we were overjoyed to sight a small ship on the horizon, and to
perceive her go about and head for the _Sainte-Marie_. But our
gratification did not very long endure;