At six bells we were ordered to turn them over and puton storm lashings. This occupied us till eight bells， whenwe were relieved by the mid-watch. I was the last to gobelow， doing so just as the watch on deck was furling thespanker. Below all were asleep except our green hand， the“bricklayer，” who was dying of consumption. The wildlydancing movements of the sea lamp cast a pale， flickeringlight through the fo’castle and turned to golden honey thedrops of water on the yellow oilskins. In all the cornersdark shadows seemed to come and go， while up in theeyes of her， beyond the pall bits， descending from deck todeck， where they seemed to lurk like some dragon at thecavern’s mouth， it was dark as Erebus. Now and again， thelight seemed to penetrate for a moment as the schoonerrolled heavier than usual， only to recede， leaving it darkerand blacker than before. The roar of the wind through therigging came to the ear muffled like the distant rumble ofa train crossing a trestle or the surf on the beach， while theloud crash of the seas on her weather bow seemed almostto rend the beams and planking asunder as it resoundedthrough the fo’castle. The creaking and groaning of thetimbers， stanchions， and bulkheads， as the strain the vesselwas undergoing was felt， served to drown the groans of thedying man as he tossed uneasily in his bunk. The workingof the foremast against the deck beams caused a shower offlaky powder to fall， and sent another sound mingling withthe tumultous storm. Small cascades of water streamedfrom the pall bits from the fo’castle head above， and，joining issue with the streams from the wet oilskins， ranalong the floor and disappeared aft into the main hold.
At two bells in the middle watch-that is， in land parlanceone o’clock in the morning-the order was roared out onthe fo’castle： “All hands on deck and shorten sail！”
Then the sleepy sailors tumbled out of their bunk andinto their clothes， oil-skins， and sea-boots and up on deck.
’Tis when that order comes on cold， blustering nights that“Jack” grimly mutters： “Who would not sell a farm and goto sea？”
It was on deck that the force of the wind could be fullyappreciated， especially after leaving the stifling fo’castle.
It seemed to stand up against you like a wall， makingit almost impossible to move on the heaving decks orto breathe as the fierce gusts came dashing by. Theschooner was hove to under jib， foresail， and mainsail.
We proceeded to lower the foresail and make it fast. Thenight was dark， greatly impeding our labor. Still， thoughnot a star or the moon could pierce the black masses ofstorm clouds that obscured the sky as they swept alongbefore the gale， nature aided us in a measure， A soft lightemanated from the movement of the ocean. Each mightysea， all phosphorescent and glowing with the tiny lights ofmyriads of animalculae， threatened to overwhelm us with adeluge of fire. Higher and higher， thinner and thinner， thecrest grew as it began to curve and overtop preparatoryto breaking， until with a roar it fell over the bulwarks， amass of soft glowing light and tons of water which sentthe sailors sprawling in all directions and left in each nookand cranny little specks of light that glowed and trembledtill the next sea washed them away， depositing new onesin their places. Sometimes several seas following eachother with great rapidity and thundering down on ourdecks filled them full to the bulwarks， but soon they weredischarged through the lee scuppers.
To reef the mainsail we were forced to run off beforethe gale under the single reefed jib. By the time we hadfinished the wind had forced up such a tremendous seathat it was impossible to heave her to. Away we flew onthe wings of the storm through the muck and flying spray.
A wind sheer to starboard， then another to port as theenormous seas struck the schooner astern and nearlybroached her to. As day broke we took in the jib， leavingnot a sail unfurled. Since we had begun scudding she hadceased to take the seas over her bow， but amidships theybroke fast and furious. It was a dry storm in the matterof rain， but the force of the wind filled the air with finespray， which flew as high as the crosstrees and cut the facelike a knife， making it impossible to see over a hundredyards ahead. The sea was a dark lead color as with long，slow， majestic roll it was heaped up by the wind into liquidmountains of foam. The wild antics of the schooner weresickening as she forged along. She would almost stop，as though climbing a mountain， then rapidly rolling toright and left as she gained the summit of a huge sea，she steadied herself and paused for a moment as thoughaffrighted at the yawning precipice before her. Like anavalanche， she shot forward and down as the sea asternstruck her with the force of a thousand battering rams，burying her bow to the catheads in the milky foam atthe bottom that came on deck in all directions-forward，astern， to right and left， through the hawse-pipes and overthe rail.
The wind began to drop， and by ten o’clock we weretalking of heaving her to. We passed a ship， two schooners，and a four-masted barkentine under the smallest ofcanvas， and at eleven o’clock， running up the spanker andjib， we hove her to， and in another hour we were beatingback again against the aftersea under full sail to regain thesealing ground away to the westward.
Below， a couple of men were sewing the “bricklayer’s”
body in canvas preparatory to the sea burial. And so withthe storm passed away the “bricklayer’s” soul.
