The _Spray_, stripped of her sails, then bore off under bare poles.

No ship in the world could have stood up against so violent a gale.

Knowing that this storm might continue for many days, and that it would be impossible to work back to the westward along the coast outside of Tierra del Fuego, there seemed nothing to do but to keep on and go east about, after all.

Anyhow, for my present safety the only course lay in keeping her before the wind.

And so she drove southeast, as though about to round the Horn, while the waves rose and fell and bellowed their never-ending story of the sea; but the Hand that held these held also the _Spray_.