This was one of those occurrences which might well shake the nerves of the most firm and courageous tar.

Indeed, the whole scene on that memorable night was far more akin to the sublime than the beautiful.

There were the heavy black clouds piled upon each other near the horizon, or hanging loosely and dripping overhead, portending a fearful conflict among the elements; there was the wind, which came in fitful gusts, whistling and singing in mournful cadence among the blocks and rigging; there was the agitated and furrowed face of the ocean, which had been lashed to fury by successive storms, and lighted up in every direction by innumerable brilliant phosphorescent particles, in which, it is well known, the waters of the Gulf Stream abound; there were the rolling echoes of the thunder, and the zig zag, chain lightning, which every few seconds enveloped the heavens and the ocean in a frightful livid garment; and, as if to cap the climax, there was the giant column, darker, much darker than the dark clouds around us, reaching from those clouds and resting on the waters, and threatening to sweep our whole ship's company into eternity.
On the day succeeding our adventure with the waterspout, the wind died away, although the heavy clouds still hung about the horizon.

The schooner, lying in the trough of the sea, was fearfully uneasy; but towards night a regular gale of wind commenced, and our vessel was hove to under a double-reefed foresail.

It was near the close of the first watch when the fore-topsail getting loose on the lee yard arm, I went aloft to secure it.