Fortunately for them, the Bay of Biscay maintained its too dreaded celebrity at the season referred to, by becoming the scene of a formidable sea and storm. The gale commenced rather suddenly, and became rapidly so fierce, that the seamen, who were quite inadequate in number, as well as in capabilities, were unable to get in the sail within the limits of safety. The canvas was flapping furiously aloft, and all efforts to reef were distressingly slow. Meanwhile my Father and his comrade were eyed with indignation and surprise by the Captain, as they moved on the deck, or stood holding by the “weather-rail,” with quiet composure, as if ignorant of, or indifferent to, the increasing peril of the position of the ship. At last, an exclamation of astonishment burst from the Captain, that, regardless of the general safety, they should not offer a helping hand. They replied most coolly, “that the crew, they understood, was ample, and needed no help of theirs, and they were but passengers!” The perplexed commander turned away in ill-concealed vexation. Still the gale increased in severity, till the ship was thrown almost on her “beam-ends,” and their situation became quite alarming. He then renewed his application under a severe taunt, as if it were unmanly to allow the crew to struggle so against the difficulties of the storm, and they, two able and efficient seamen, looking on! “Destroy the paper,” they said, “and let us work our passage, and we shall be ready for your orders.” Desperate now, in his anxiety to save the canvas and spars, and, indeed, to secure the safety of the ship, the Captain produced the important and vexatious paper, and tearing it passionately into pieces, he scattered its fragments on the wild waste of waters to leeward.