We carefully worked our way along to the pilot-house, and looked in.

The captain was inside, and when he saw us he opened the door and came out.

He was going to his own room, just back of the pilot-house, and he told us to come with him.
He looked tired and wet, and he told us that the storm had grown so bad that he didn't think it would be right to keep on our course any longer.
We were going to the north-west, and the storm was coming from the north-east, and the waves and the wind dashed fair against the side of the vessel, making her roll and careen so that it began to be unsafe.

So he had put her around with her head to the wind, and now she took the storm on her bow, where she could stand it a great deal better.

He put all this in a good deal of sea-language, but I tell it as I got the sense of it.
"Did you think she would go over, Captain ?" asked Rectus.
"Oh no!" said he, "but something might have been carried away." He was a very pleasant man, and talked a good deal to us.
"It's all very well to lie to, this way," he went on, "for the comfort and safety of the passengers and the ship, but I don't like it, for we're not keeping on to our port, which is what I want to be doing." "Are we stopping here ?" I asked.
"Pretty much," said the captain.