"However, the Indiaman's officers and crew had work enough in managing her at present: after a sunset more like the putting out of him than anything else, with a flaring snuff and a dingy sort of smoke that followed, the wind grew from sou'-west into a regular long gale, that drove the tops of the heavy seas into the dead-lights astern, rising aft out of the dark like so many capes, with the snow drifting off them over the poop. At midnight, it blew great guns, with a witness; the ship, under storm staysails and close-reefed main-topsail, going twelve knots or more, when, as both the captain and mate reckoned, we were near St Helena on our present course, and to haul on a wind was as much as her spars were worth; her helm was put hard down, and we lay-to for morning, the ship drifting off bodily to leeward with the water. The night was quite dark, the rain coming in sudden spits out of the wind; you only heard the wet gale sob and hiss through the bare rigging into her storm canvas, when the look-out men ahead sung out, 'Land--land close to starboard!' 'Bless me, sir,' said the mate to the captain, 'it's the Rock--well that we _did_--' 'Hard up! hard up with the helm!' yelled the men again, 'it's a _ship_!' "I ran to the weather main-chains and saw a broad black mass, as it were, rising high abeam, and seeming to come out from the black of the night, with a gleam or two in it which they had taken for lights ashore in the island. The _Seringapatam's_ wheel was put up already, but she hung in the gale, doubtful whether to fall off or not; and the moment she _did_ sink into the trough, we should have had a sea over her broadside fit to wash away men, boats, and all--let alone the other ship bearing down at twelve knots. 'Show the _head_ of the _fore-topmast-staysail_!' shouted I with all my strength to the forecastle, and up it went slapping its hanks to the blast--the Indiaman sprang round heeling to her ports on the next sea, main-topsail before the wind, and the staysail down again. Next minute a large ship, with the foam washing over her cat-heads, and her martingale gear dripping under the huge white bowsprit, came lifting close past us--as black as shadows aloft, save the glimmer of her main-tack to the lanterns aboard--and knot after knot of dim faces above her bulwarks shot by, till you saw her captain standing high in the mizzen-chains, with a speaking-trumpet. He roared out something or other through it, and the skipper sung out under both his hands, 'Ay, ay, sir,' in answer; but it turned out after that nobody knew what it was, unless it might be, as I thought, '_Where_ are you going?' The minute following, we saw her quarter-lanterns like two will-o'-the-wisps beyond a wave, and she was gone--a big frigate running under half her canvas, strong though the gale blew.