It is always a ticklish thing to heave a vessel to when there is a heavy sea running. The brig's sails were reduced until she was stripped to her close-reefed main-topsails, her fore-staysail was then set, and the two officers exchanged places, the old captain sprang forward, and holding on by the weather fore-shrouds, gazed wistfully over the ocean, while his mate stood near the man-at-wheel, waiting the coming order. Sea after sea struck her, dashing the glittering spray high into the air, and wetting the veteran sailor to the skin, as he stood anxiously gazing over the ocean. At length a moment came when the long waves seemed less heavy. Captain Weber seized it, and a motion of the hand was enough. "Down with the helm, Adams, hard down," shouted the watchful mate. The brig flew up to the wind. "Set the main-staysail!" was the order thundered from the quarter-deck, and steadily executed by the trained seaman, the brig being soon hove-to under her main-topsail, fore and main-staysails, making comparatively good weather of it, and everything seemed to settle down into its usual order on board the little craft. "He was a gallant fellow, and would have made a thorough seaman," said Captain Weber, as he joined the party below, dashing the salt foam from his eyes and hair as he spoke. "He loved the sea, and left a quiet home to find a grave here in the Indian Ocean." Isabel seemed violently affected by the scene which had passed before her eyes. "His was a sailor's death, it may be ours to-morrow," continued the captain. "Poor Blount! he was to have had command of one of his father's ships next voyage." "What do you think of the weather, Captain Weber?" asked Hughes, wishing to change the theme, for Isabel was sobbing convulsively, as the thought of the sorrowing parents came vividly before her. "These blows seldom hold long, from the fact of their extreme violence. Should it last we shall be jammed down on the Madagascar coast: indeed, we cannot be far from it, for the land hereaway is low, or we should have sighted it at daylight." "Shall we feel the loss of our spars much?" inquired Wyzinski. "Not so much while lying to; but our wings are nicely clipped. The `Halcyon' has been at sea, trading on this coast, for nearly three years, without ever having the advantage of a good overhaul, or such an accident could never have happened."