Then the Doraine was in the thick of the furious revel of sea and sky, plunging, leaping, rolling like a monstrous cork....
How she managed to weather the storm, God knows, and He alone.

At the mercy of wave and wind, she was tossed and hammered and racked for two frightful days and nights, and yet she remained afloat, battered, smashed, raked from stem to stern, stripped of everything the tempest could wrench from her in its fury.

And yet on the third day, when the storm abated, the sturdy ship was still riding the waves, flayed but un-conquered, and the baffled sea was licking the sides of her once more with servile though deceitful tenderness.
But there was water in the hold.

The ship was leaking badly.
Up from the stifling interior straggled the unhappy inmates.

They looked again upon the unbelievable: a smiling, dancing sea of blue under a canopy clean and spotless.