The cook's galley came in for its share of the damage, the cook himself
barely escaping serious injury from a sea that went thundering across
the decks, taking with it doors, windows, galley stove, pots, kettles
and all, together with the culinary artist; landing the whole wreck in
the lee scuppers, but, most fortunately, with the professor on top. A
misfortune like this is always--felt. It dampens one's feelings, so to
speak. It means cold food for a time to come, if not even worse fare.
The day following our misfortune, however, was not so bad. In fact, the
tremendous seas boarding the bark latterly were indications of the good
change coming, for it meant that her speed had slackened through a lull
of the gale, allowing the seas to reach her too full and heavy.
More sail was at once crowded on, and still more was set at every stage
of the abatement of the gale, for the craft should not be lazy when big
seas race after her. And so on we flew, like a scud, sheeting home sail
after sail as required, till the 5th of March, when all of her white
wings were spread, and she fairly "walked the waters like a thing of
life.
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