Sometimes an impending surge appeared ready to overwhelm
her, and nothing but a dexterous movement of the helm preserved
her from the shock.
When I retired to my cabin, the awful scene still followed me.
The whistling of the wind through the rigging sounded like
funereal wailings. The creaking of the masts; the straining and
groaning of bulkheads, as the ship labored in the weltering sea,
were frightful. As I heard the waves rushing along the side of
the ship, and roaring in my very ear, it seemed as if Death were
raging around this floating prison, seeking for his prey: the
mere starting of a nail, the yawning of a seam, might give him
entrance.
A fine day, however, with a tranquil sea and favoring breeze,
soon put all these dismal reflections to flight. It is impossible
to resist the gladdening influence of fine weather and fair wind
at sea. When the ship is decked out in all her canvas, every sail
swelled, and careering gayly over the curling waves, how lofty,
how gallant, she appears--how she seems to lord it over the deep!
I might fill a volume with the reveries of a sea voyage; for with
me it is almost a continual reverie--but it is time to get to
shore.
It was a fine sunny morning when the thrilling cry of "land!" was
given from the mast-head.
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