I am told by one who was on a wide heath at the beginning of that hurricane, that he was coated with solid ice from head to foot on the windward side; his hair and beard were icicles; his spaniel cowered and refused to move; and a splendid, strong horse, which was being driven right in the teeth of the wind, suddenly put its nose to the ground, set its forelegs wide apart, and refused to go on.  Not far from the horse was a great poplar, and this tree suddenly snapped like a stick of macaroni; the horse started, whirled round, and galloped off with the wind behind.

What must it have been at sea?  Men durst not look to windward, for a hard mass seemed to be thrust into nostrils and eyes, so that one was forced to gasp and choke.  As for the turmoil!—­all Gravelotte, with half a million men engaged, could not have made such a soul-quelling, overmastering sound.  Every capacity of sound, every possible discordant vibration of the atmosphere was at work; and so, with bellow on bellow, crash on crash, vast multitudinous shriek on shriek, that fateful tempest went on.

Ferrier found that unless he could get under the lee of something or other, he must soon be sheathed in a coat of ice that would prevent him from stirring at all.  Oddly enough, he found afterwards that the very fate he dreaded had befallen several forlorn seamen:  the icy missiles of the storm froze them in; the wind did not chill them, it throttled them, and they were found frozen rigid in various positions.

The mate came and whispered in Ferrier’s ear (for shouting was useless), “The skipper would like a word with you.  We’ll keep some sort of a look-out, but it isn’t much good at present.  Come into our cabin.”

Lewis was not sorry, for the waves began to take the vessel without “noticing” her, as it were, just as a good hunter takes an easy ditch in his stride.  If one came perpendicularly upon her, it was easy to see what must happen.

The skipper said, “I want you gentlemen to assist me.  I’m ordered to obey you, but I know this sea, and I tell you that I’m doubtful whether I shall save the vessel.  I can’t keep her hove-to much longer, for this simple reason as she’ll bury herself and us.  I’ve got two hundred and forty-four miles to run home.  Will you let me run her?  If so, I’ll take her in under storm canvas.  She’s splendid before wind and sea, and I can save her that way; if we stop as we are, I fear we drown.  I’ve seen so many years of it that I don’t so much mind, but having you is a terrible thing.  Hishht, a sea’s coming!—­I can tell by the lull.”

Then the two landsmen cowered involuntarily, and looked in each other’s eyes with a wild surmise, for a shock came which made the vessel quiver like a tuning-fork in every fibre; the very pannikins on the cabin floor rattled, and all the things in the pantry went like rapidly chattering teeth.  It was not like an ordinary blow of the sea.  The skipper rushed aft, hoping to get on deck through Ferrier’s cabin, but he met a cataract of water which blinded him, and he came back saying, “I doubt her deck won’t stand another like that.  Now, gentlemen, it’s for you to decide.”