“Poor Pussy was endeavouring, rather ineffectually, to steady herself on the sofa, and looked very much from home, while I myself was trebly engaged: namely, in placing such articles as were constantly tumbling down into a safer and steadier position, in keeping the fire brightly burning, and in reading a nautical book.
“There was a shade of uneasiness on the captain’s face as he looked at the barometer; and when he entered his state-room, and presently after emerged dressed in oilskins and a sou’-wester hat, I felt as sure we were going to have a dirty night as though he had rigged himself out in sackcloth and ashes.
“He sat down, and, calling for some coffee, invited me to join in a social cup.
“‘Is there plenty of sea-room?’ I inquired.
“‘Very little sea-room,’ he replied; ‘but she must take her chance.’
“Then we relapsed into silence.
“About an hour or two after this it became a difficult matter to sit on a chair at all, so much did the vessel pitch and roll.
“The captain had gone on deck, and as I had neither the need nor the desire to follow him, I threw myself on the sofa, at the risk even of offending my good friend and companion, Pussy.
“The storm was now raging with terrible fury.
“Two watches were called to shorten sail, and the din and noise of voices could be distinctly heard rising high over the dashing of the waves, and the whistling of the wind among the rigging and shrouds. Every timber was stretched, every plank seemed to creak and wail in agony; yet the good ship bore it well.