Every ship made all snug aloft, and
hoisted the boats to the top notch of the cranes, fully
anticipating a long, hard struggle with the elements before they
got back to the cruising ground again. Cutting-in was out of the
question in such weather; the only thing possible was to hope for
a shift of wind before she got too far out, or a break in the
weather. Neither of these events was probable, as all
frequenters of South New Zealand know, bad weather having there
an unhappy knack of being as persistent as fine weather is brief.
Night drew on as our forlorn and heavily handicapped little fleet
bore steadily seaward with their burdens, the angry, ever-
increasing sea, battering at us vengefully, while the huge
carcasses alongside tore and strained at their fastenings as if
they would rend the ships asunder. Slowly our companions faded
from sight as the murky sky shut down on us, until in lonely
helplessness we drifted on our weary way out into the vast,
inhospitable Southern Ocean. Throughout the dark and stormy
night our brave old ship held on her unwilling way right
gallantly, making no water, in spite of the fearful strain to
which she was subjected, nor taking any heavy sea over all.
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