The “Coquet” got away down Channel and struck for Ushant without any mishap; but when she got well into the Bay the sky began to look ominous.  On the second morning the sea ran very strong, and by mid-day the gale had fairly come.  All the fine descriptions of heavy weather in the Bay help one but little to understand what it is really like.  It is hardly possible to think coherently about the enormous hurly-burly, much less to write or speak so as to make anyone understand how the masses of water move and how they sound.  The “Coquet” got into a very bad quarter indeed, and the captain soon saw that it was useless to try running her.  All hands were warned; the formalities of watches were dispensed with; and the engineers received orders to get on every possible ounce of steam.  Then the ship was placed with her head to the sea, and the master took his place on the bridge.  He did not know what a very long spell he would have.  Only by keeping the engines at full speed ahead the vessel was enabled to hold her ground, and sometimes when the usual eight great waves were followed by the mountainous ninth, she lost considerably.  The captain had to watch like a cat; for an instant’s nervousness, a momentary failure of judgment, would have let her come round, and then all would have been soon over.  The men hung on anyhow, and the two hands at the wheel were lashed, for the hull was seldom above water.  A pouring stream rushed over the steamer; and hardly had one volume of water passed away when another came down like thunder.  There was very little of the usual creamy foam, for the sea ran over the ship as though she were not there.  When the downward flights came, the captain on the high bridge was often up to his knees in water; and again and again he made up his mind that his vessel could never come out of it.  Once, when the mate dodged aft and clambered to the bridge, the “Coquet” took a long rush down, after she had reared on end like a horse.  Her plunge was like the dive of a whale, and the screw “raced”—­that is, whirled round high above the sea-level.  The mate said, “She’s gone, sir;” the captain replied, “Give her time.”  Once more she came up and shook herself; but it seemed as though her elasticity was gone.  In truth, her deck had an ugly slant.  During all this time the wind was growing, and the sea was gaining speed and strength.  It could not very well last, and nobody knew that better than the captain.  A blinding scuffle of cross-seas came and the “Coquet” was smothered for a while; the captain heard a crashing sound, and when he looked round the starboard boat was smashed and hanging in splinters, while the port boat was torn clean away.  These were the only two boats that the vessel had.  The slant or “list” grew more pronounced, for the cargo had shifted; and the steamer was now like a boxer whose left hand is tied behind his back.  She seemed to take the blows passively, only lungeing doggedly up when the wild welter had flowed over her, and still keeping