For quite seventy-two hours we ran on beneath bare poles before that gale.

The little vessel behaved splendidly, riding the seas like a duck, but I could see that Captain Astley was growing alarmed.

When I said something complimentary to him about the conduct of the Star of the South, he replied that she was forging ahead all right, but the question was--where to?
He had been unable to take an observation of any sort since we left Samoa; both his patent logs had been carried away, so that now only the compass remained, and he had not the slightest idea where we were in that great ocean studded with atolls and islands.
I asked him whether we could not steam back to our proper course, but he answered that to do so he would have to travel dead in the eye of the gale, and he doubted whether the engines would stand it.

Also there was the question of coal to be considered.

However, he had kept the fires going and would do what he could if the weather moderated.
That night during dinner which now consisted of tinned foods and whisky and water, for the seas had got to the galley fire, suddenly the gale dropped, whereat we rejoiced exceedingly.