As I have said, the _Blanche_ was new and strong and the
best ship that ever I had sailed in upon a heavy sea. Moreover, her
hatches were closed down, for this the sailors had done after we
weighed, so she rode the waters like a duck, taking no harm. Oh! well
it was for me that from my childhood I had had to do with ships and the
sailing of them, and flying from the following waves thus was able to
steer and keep the _Blanche's_ poop right in the wind, which seemed to
blow first from one quarter and then from that.
Now over my memory of these events there comes a great confusion and
sense of amazement. All became fragmentary and disjointed, separated
also by what seemed to be considerable periods of time--days or weeks
perhaps. There was a sense of endless roaring seas before which the ship
fled on and on, driven by a screaming gale that I noted dimly seemed to
blow first from the northwest and then steadily from the east.
I see myself, very distinctly, lashing the tiller to iron rings that
were screwed in the deck beams, and know that I did this because I
was too weak to hold it any longer and desired to set it so that the
_Blanche_ should continue to drive straight before the gale.
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