Clouds look black and wild; wind rising, and ship working hard against a heavy sea, which breaks over the forecastle, and washes aft through the scuppers. Still, no more sail is taken in, for the captain is a driver, and, like all drivers, very partial to his top-gallant sails. A top-gallant sail, too, makes the difference between a breeze and a gale. When a top-gallant sail is on a ship, it is only a breeze, though I have seen ours set over a reefed topsail, when half the bowsprit was under water, and it was up to a man's knees in the scuppers. At eight bells, nothing is said about reefing the topsails, and the watch go below, with orders to "stand by for a call." We turn-in, growling at the "old man" for not reefing the topsails when the watch was changed, but putting it off so as to call all hands, and break up a whole watch below. Turn-in "all standing," and keep ourselves awake, saying there is no use in going asleep to be waked up again.--Wind whistles on deck, and ship works hard, groaning and creaking, and pitching into a heavy head sea, which strikes against the bows, with a noise like knocking upon a rock.--The dim lamp in the forecastle swings to and fro, and things "fetch away" and go over to leeward.--"Doesn't that booby of a second mate ever mean to take in his top-gallant sails?--He'll have the sticks out of her soon," says old Bill, who was always growling, and, like most old sailors, did not like to see a ship abused.--By-and-by an order is given--"Aye, aye, sir!" from the forecastle;--rigging is heaved down on deck;--the noise of a sail is heard fluttering aloft, and the short, quick cry which sailors make when hauling upon clewlines.--"Here comes his fore-top-gallant sail in!"--We are wide awake, and know all that's going on as well as if we were on deck.--A well-known voice is heard from the mast-head singing out the officer of the watch to haul taut the weather brace.--"Hallo! There's S---- aloft to furl the sail!"--Next thing, rigging is heaved down directly over our heads, and a long-drawn cry and a rattling of hanks announce that the flying-jib has come in.--The second mate holds on to the main top-gallant sail until a heavy sea is shipped, and washes over the forecastle as though the whole ocean had come aboard; when a noise further aft shows that that sail, too, is taking in. After this, the ship is more easy for a time; two bells are struck, and we try to get a little sleep. By-and-by, bang, bang, bang, on the scuttle--"All ha-a-ands, a ho-o-y!"--We spring out of our berths, clap on a monkey-jacket and southwester, and tumble up the ladder.--Mate up before us, and on the forecastle, singing out like a roaring bull; the captain singing out on the quarter-deck, and the second mate yelling, like a hyena, in the waist. The ship is lying over half upon her beam-ends; lee scuppers under water, and forecastle all in a smother of foam.--Rigging all let go, and washing about decks;