He next met the passenger whom he had seen under the lee of the hencoop, and his despair and grimaces were enough to make even the discouraged John smile.
"Oh, I shall be drowned.

I shall be drowned!" the poor fellow was groaning.

"Pray for me, some of you who can.

I cannot, for it would do no good; but some of you can surely pray.

By the mass! I see the very whale that swallowed Jonah ready to gulp me down." He was clinging to some ropes as if he expected momentarily to be swept away.
John Stevens went to bed, which was the most sensible thing he could do.
By daylight on the morning of the twentieth, the gale had increased to a furious tempest, and the sea, keeping pace with it, ran mountains high.
All that day the passengers were kept close below hatches, for the sea beat over the ship.
About seven o'clock on the morning of the twenty-first, John Stevens was alarmed by an unusual noise upon deck, and running up, perceived that every sail in the vessel, except the foresail, had been totally carried away.