The barometer was rapidly rising.

The center of the cyclone had swept far ahead.
There was only left the aftermath of heavy seas and furious but steadier wind.
Captain Ross entered the charthouse for the twentieth time.
He had aged many years in appearance.

The smiling, confident, debonair officer was changed into a stricken, mournful man.

He had altered with his ship.

The _Sirdar_ and her master could hardly be recognized, so cruel were the blows they had received.
"It is impossible to see a yard ahead," he confided to his second in command.