“The ground tier of powder is spoiled,” lamented the faithful gunner, “and I want to show you, sir, that it is not because of any carelessness of mine in stowing it, for no powder in the world could be better stowed. Now, sir, what am I to do? If you don’t speak to Sir Hyde in my behalf, he will be angry with me.” Archer smiled to see how easily the gunner took the grave danger of the ship and replied: “Let us shake off this gale of wind first and talk of the damaged powder later.” [Illustration: PERILOUS SITUATION OF THE SHIP] At the end of his watch below, Archer thought that the toiling gangs at the pumps had gained on the water a little. When he returned to the deck he was rather appalled by the situation, although his courage was unshaken. When he later tried to convey a picture of it for the entertainment of his mother, part of the letter read like this: If I were to write forever, I could not give you an idea of it--a total darkness all above; the sea on fire, running as it were in Alps or Peaks of Teneriffe (mountains are too common an idea); the wind roaring louder than thunder, the whole made more terrible, if possible, by a very uncommon kind of blue lightning; the poor ship very much pressed, yet doing what she could, shaking her sides and groaning at every stroke. Sir Hyde was lashed upon the deck to windward and I soon lashed myself alongside of him and told him the state of affairs below, saying that the ship did not make more water than might be expected in such infernal weather and that I was only afraid of a gun breaking loose. “I am not in the least afraid of that,” said the captain. “I have commanded her for six years and have had many a gale of wind in her, so that her iron work, which always gives way first, is pretty well tried. Hold fast, Archer, that was an ugly sea. We must lower the yards, for the ship is much pressed.” “If we attempt it, sir, we shall lose them, for a man aloft can do nothing; besides, their being down would ease the ship very little; the mainmast is a sprung mast; I wish it were overboard without carrying everything with it, but that can soon be done. The gale cannot last forever. ’Twill soon be daylight now.” Found by the master’s watch that it was five o’clock, glad it was so near dawn and looked for it with much anxiety. Cuba, thou are much in our way! Sent a midshipman to fetch news from the pumps. The ship was filling with water despite all their labor. The sea broke halfway up the quarterdeck, filled one of the cutters upon the booms and tore her all to fragments. The ship lying almost upon her beam ends and not attempting to right again. Word from below that the water had gained so fast they could no longer stand to the pumps. I said to Sir Hyde: “This is no time, sir, to think of saving the masts. Shall we cut away?”