An acquaintance with the law of storms had proved invaluable on this occasion. There is no situation in which knowledge is more truly power, none in which, under a due sense of the providential care of Heaven, it gives a nobler confidence to man, than at sea, amid the raging of a hurricane. Mr. Emerson has truly said, 'They can conquer who believe they can. The sailor loses fear as fast as he acquires command of sails, and spars, and steam. To the sailor's experience, every new circumstance suggests what he must do. The terrific chances which make the hours and minutes long to the mere passenger, he whiles away by incessant application of expedients and repairs. To him a leak, a hurricane, a waterspout, is so much work, and no more. Courage is equality to the problem, in affairs, in science, in trade, in council, or in action. Courage consists in the conviction that the agents with which you contend are not superior in strength, or resources, or spirit, to you.'
As a specimen of a dirty night at sea, I give another extract from the log-book. During our voyage round the world in 1876-77, after leaving Honolulu for Japan, as we approached Osima, on January 26, we were struck by a tremendous squall of wind and rain. We at once took in the flying square-sail, stowed the topgallant-sail and topsail, reefed the foresail and mizen, and set mainsail. At 6 P.M., the wind still blowing a moderate gale, the mizen was double-reefed. We pursued our way through a confused sea, but without shipping any water. All seemed to be going well, when, at 8 P.M., shortly after I had taken the wheel, a sudden squall heeled us over to the starboard side, where the gig was hung from the davits outboard. At the same time a long mountainous wave, rolling up from the leeward, struck the keel of the gig and lifted it up, unshipping the fore davit, and causing the boat to fall into the boiling sea, which threatened at every instant to dash it to pieces. We at once brought to. A brave fellow jumped into the boat and secured a tackle to the bows, and the gig was hoisted on board and secured on deck intact. It was a very seaman-like achievement. A heavy gale continued during the night, and at 2 A.M., on the 27th, we met with another accident. The boatswain, a man of great skill and experience, was at the wheel, when a steep wave suddenly engulfed the jibboom, and the 'Sunbeam,' gallantly springing up, as if to leap over instead of cleaving through the wave, carried away the spar at the cap. This brought down the topgallant-mast. The jibboom was a splendid Oregon spar, 54 feet long, projecting 28 feet beyond the bowsprit. It was rigged with wire rope, and the martingale was sawn through with the greatest difficulty.