“There I was, from being worth thousands in imagination, reduced to the old four and sixpence a day. The little doctor won the most prize money of us all, for the bag contained between thirty and forty dollars.” After almost running ashore in a thick night and clawing off by good seamanship, the _Phoenix_ ran over to Jamaica for fresh water, and then sailed in company with two other frigates. The verdant mountains of that lovely island were still visible when the sky became overcast. By eleven o’clock that night, “it began to snuffle, with a monstrous heavy appearance from the eastward.” Sir Hyde Parker sent for Lieutenant Archer, who was his navigating officer, and exclaimed: “What sort of weather have we? It blows a little and has a very ugly look. If in any other quarter but this I should say we were going to have a smart gale of wind.” “Aye, sir,” replied the lieutenant, “it looks so very often here when there is no wind at all. However, don’t hoist topsails until it clears a little.” Next morning it was dirty weather, blowing hard, with heavy squalls, and the frigate laboring under close-reefed lower sails. “I doubt whether it clears,” said the frowning captain. “I was once in a hurricane in the East Indies, and the beginning of it had much the same appearance as this. So be sure we have plenty of sea room.” All day the wind steadily increased in violence, and the frigate, spray-swept and streaming, rolled in the passage between Jamaica and Cuba, in peril of foundering if she stayed at sea and of fetching up on the rocks if she tried to run for shelter. There was nothing to do but to fight it out. I shall let Lieutenant Archer describe something of the struggle in his own words, old sea lingo and all, because he depicts it with a spirit so high-hearted and adventurous, quite as you would expect it of a true-blue young sailorman. At eight o’clock a hurricane; the sea roaring but the wind still steady to a point; did not ship a spoonful of water. However, got the hatchways all secured, expecting what would be the consequence should the wind shift; placed the carpenters by the mainmast with broad-axes, knowing from experience that at the moment you may want to cut it away to save the ship, an axe may not be found. Went to supper; bread, cheese, and porter. The purser frightened out of his wits about his bread bags, the two marine officers as white as sheets, not understanding the ship’s working and groaning in every timber, and the noise of the lower deck guns which by this time made a pretty screeching and straining to people not used to it. It seemed as if the whole ship’s side was going at each roll. Old “Wooden-head,” our carpenter, was all this time smoking his pipe and laughing at the doctor; the second lieutenant upon deck, and the third in his hammock.