"I told you, Jack, that you would have a taste of the bitters of a sea-life before long," said Peter, as soon as he had time to have a word with me. "Let me tell you, however, that this is just nothing, and that we shall be very fortunate if we do not fall in with something much worse before long." I knew that Peter would not unnecessarily alarm me, and so I looked up at the dark clouds driving across the sky, and saw the hissing, foaming waves dancing up wildly around us, looking as if every moment they were ready to swallow up the brig, I asked myself what worse could occur, without our going to the bottom. I had never then been in a regular hurricane or a typhoon, or on a lee-shore on a dark night, surrounded by rocks, or among rapid currents, hurrying the ship within their power to destruction; nor had I been on board a craft when all hands at the pumps could scarcely keep her afloat; nor had I seen a fire raging. Indeed, I happily knew nothing of the numberless dangers and hardships to which a seaman in his career is exposed. I must not say that I was in any way frightened. I resolved to keep a bold heart in my body. "Never mind," I answered to Peter's remark; "while I've got you and the captain on board, I don't fear anything." Peter laughed. "We may be very well in our way," said he; "but, Jack, my advice is: Trust in God, and hold on by the weather-rigging. Should the ship go down, look out for spar or a plank if there's no boat afloat; and if you can find nothing, swim as long as you can; but whatever you do, trust in God." I have never forgotten Peter's advice. Never have I found that trust deceive me; and often and often have I been mercifully preserved when I had every reason to believe that my last hour had come. I should remark also that, badly off as I have often fancied myself, I have soon had reason to be thankful that I was not in the condition of others around me. While Peter was speaking, one of the crew sung out, "a sail on the weather-bow!" Sure enough, as we rose on the summit of a sea, a ship could be seen with all her topsails set running before the wind. Peter remarked that she was standing directly for us. "She is a large ship, by the squareness of her yards; probably either from the West Indies or South America, or maybe China, or from some port in the Pacific, and she has come round the Horn." We watched her for some time. "She has a signal of distress flying, sir," said the first mate, who had been looking at her through a glass. "She is in a bad way, then," remarked the captain. "I fear that unless the sea goes down, and she in the meantime can heave-to near us, we can render her no assistance."