One gust caught away the tiller, which went adrift beyond all power of recovery, and the same blast blew down several of the planks that formed the low parapet on the larboard side, so that the waves dashed in without hindrance through the breach.
The carpenter and his mates tried to repair the damage, but, tossed from wave to wave, the raft was inclined to an angle of more than forty-five degrees, making it impossible for them to keep their footing, and rolling one over another, they were thrown down by the violent shocks.
Why they were not altogether carried away, why we were not all hurled into the sea, was to me a mystery.

Even if the cords that bound us should retain their hold, it seemed perfectly incredible that the raft itself should not be overturned, so that we should be carried down and stifled in the seething waters.
At last, towards three in the morning, when the hurricane seemed to be raging more fiercely than ever, the raft, caught up on the crest of an enormous wave, stood literally perpendicularly on its edge.

For an instant, by the illumination of the lightning, we beheld ourselves raised to an incomprehensible height above the foaming breakers.

Cries of terror escaped our lips.

All must be over now! But no; another moment, and the raft had resumed its horizontal position.