The gale, the sea, the _Marie_, and the clouds were all lashed into one great madness of hasty flight towards the same point.

The fastest of all was the wind; then the huge seething billows, heavier and slower, toiling after; and, lastly, the smack, dragged into the general whirl.

The waves tracked her down with their white crests, tumbling onward in continual motion, and she--though always being caught up to and outrun--still managed to elude them by means of the eddying waters she spurned in her wake, upon which they vented their fury.

In this similitude of flight the sensation particularly experienced was of buoyancy, the delight of being carried along without effort or trouble, in a springy sort of way.

The _Marie_ mounted over the waves without any shaking, as if the wind had lifted her clean up; and her subsequent descent was a slide.