Though the weather was severe, the old hands said that we were making an excellent passage and the chances were that we would soon find ourselves in the Pacific Ocean. It was the severest weather I had yet seen, and I thought that, if the passage were an excellent one, I certainly did not care to see a rigorous one. The prediction that we would soon find ourselves in the Pacific did not turn true. We were nearly round the Horn when we met with awful weather. There were sleet and a head wind for ten days. During this time we just held our own. To add to our discomfort, the cook found it difficult to run the galley, and our food was poor and there was not much of it. The distress and misery were shown in every face, and the only cheer came with the announcement that the captain had decided that, if the weather didn’t change for the better on the following day, he was going to turn about and make the Pacific the other way. “That’s a good many thousand miles,” said Kreelman, “but he won’t make the Pacific that way. He’ll make it as we are headed now.” “What makes you think so?” I inquired. “You’ve got some book larnin’, Fancy Chest, but you don’t know everythin’. Did you ever see the moon? I haven’t been to sea for years for nothin’. Well, the moon changes to-morrow in the afternoon. About two o’clock you’ll see the sea go down and the wind shift too, and we’ll go ahead and round into the Pacific a-swimmin’.” “Do you think the moon affects the weather that way?” Kreelman gave me a look of scorn and contempt, and, without answering, walked away. The night was the wildest we had known, and the morning broke with disheartening prospects. During the rest of the voyage I never saw such an angry sea or knew such a dreadful storm. As noon approached the waves began to go down and the wind to subside. By two o’clock the weather was fair, and the wind had shifted in our favor. Every one was contented except Kreelman. His discontent related only to me; for, as he passed me on the deck, he gave me a withering look. The next day Kreelman was more genial, and I thought I would see if he was approachable. I observed: “I studied up the Pacific some before leaving home, and I suppose that we are now going to whale it off the coast, and then farther west on the Offshore Ground.” All he said was, “Water and fresh stuff.” This was a puzzle. I didn’t want to betray my ignorance, and, while the man had been helpful to me in many ways, I didn’t warm up to him very much when he was in the wrong mood. I determined to find out what he meant, if I could, from another source.