Luckily the wind began to haul to the westward, and we found that on the starboard tack, with nothing but the tarpaulin in the mizzen, she would head up within four points of the sea, while the hauling wind drove the spray over her in clouds but two points forward of the weather beam. Dripping wet and half-blinded with salt, I made my way aft to where the skipper stood at the wheel. The cries continued to come up the smashed companionway, and, as I drew near, Crojack motioned for me to go below and see what was wrong. I scrambled down into the cabin, and almost immediately found Mrs. Waters in my arms. She was hysterical with fright, and begged me never to leave her. She was a plump, good-looking woman, and I own that I felt a little flattered at this show of absolute confidence. I took her to the weather side of the cabin, clear of the water, and strove to quiet her, and in a short time she was silent. I then thought that it was about time that I should go on deck and attend to my duties. As soon as I started to leave, she became nervous again and grasped me tightly. “You’ll never leave me here alone, Mr. Gore; you’ll never leave me?” she cried. “No,” said I, mechanically, “I’ll never leave you,” and the words were no sooner out of my mouth than I was aware of a stateroom door being open and a half-smiling, half-frightened face regarding us intently. “Mr. Gore!” bawled Captain Crojack down the companionway. “Ay, ay, sir!” I answered, and, freeing myself, I made my way on deck. The skipper eyed me curiously. “Better see about getting a new maintopsail ready for bending, and get the foresail close reefed,” he said, with some energy. And I immediately went forward. During the dog-watch that evening we bent new fore and main lower topsails and were soon riding comfortably enough. After supper we kept away and drove off to the eastward, with the wind astern and enough canvas on the ship to keep her clear of the running hill behind us. The carpenter was sent aft to mend the cabin door and clear away the wreck in the after cabin. So much water had poured down the companionway that many movable things were washed clear into the forward cabin. Among these I noticed a book which I thought I recognized, by its peculiar cover, as my private log-book. I remember wondering how it could have floated out of my room, but I picked it up and laid it carefully in my bunk to dry. When I took my watch below, I opened it to see if it was damaged by the water, and was astonished to find neat entries made in it by an unmistakably feminine hand. On the first page were a few terse lines, thus: “April 16th, left New York. Am a little seasick. Am much amused at the antics of the ogling first officer. His name is Gore, an abbreviation of gorilla. He certainly looks like one,” etc. I was a little cut at this. I am not handsome, and that made it hurt all the more.