There was none of any account, though the upper planking of the ship was strained, and the wash of the sea found its way through the seams now and then.

We could keep that under by baling now and again if it grew no worse.
But in about an hour it was plain that a gale was setting in from the northeast, and the sea was rising.

We must run before it whether we would or no, and the sooner we put about the better, crippled as we were.

We must go as the gale drove us, and make what landfall we might, though where that would be we could not tell, for there was no knowing how far we were from the Norway shore, or whither we had drifted in the fog.
So we put the ship about, shipping a sea or two as we did so, and then, with our unhandy canvas full and boomed out as best we could with two oars lashed together, we fled into the unknown seas to south and west, well-nigh hopeless, save that of food and water was plenty.
I have no mind to tell of the next three days.

They were alike in gray discomfort, in the ceaseless wash of the waves that followed us, and in the fall of the rain.