" As he spoke he looked with a steadfast soul
into the black hollow of the wave that combed above us,
threatening destruction.
The wave broke, and the boat still lived. Borne high upon the
shoulder of the next rolling hill, we looked north, south, east, and
west, and saw only a waste of livid, ever forming, ever breaking
waves, a gray sky streaked with darker gray shifting vapor, and a
horizon impenetrably veiled. Where we were in the great bay, in
what direction we were being driven, how near we might be to the
open sea or to some fatal shore, we knew not. What we did know
was that both masts were gone, that we must bail the boat without
ceasing if we would keep it from swamping, that the wind was
doing an apparently impossible thing and rising higher and higher,
and that the waves which buffeted us from one to the other were
hourly swelling to a more monstrous bulk.
We had come into the wider waters at dawn, and still under
canvas. An hour later, off Point Comfort, a bare mast contented us;
we had hardly gotten the sail in when mast and all went overboard.
That had been hours ago.
A common peril is a mighty leveler of barriers. Scant time was
there in that boat to make distinction between friend and foe. As
one man we fought the element which would devour us. Each took
his turn at the bailing, each watched for the next great wave before
which we must cower, clinging with numbed hands to gunwale
and thwart.
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