I cannot fathom him.
Altogether a depressing day of rain-splatter and wash of water across the deck.

I can see, now, that the problem of sailing a ship with five thousand tons of coal around the Horn is more serious than I had thought.
So deep is the _Elsinore_ in the water that she is like a log awash.

Her tall, six-foot bulwarks of steel cannot keep the seas from boarding her.
She has not the buoyancy one is accustomed to ascribe to ships.

On the contrary, she is weighted down until she is dead, so that, for this one day alone, I am appalled at the thought of how many thousands of tons of the North Atlantic have boarded her and poured out through her spouting scuppers and clanging ports.
Yes, a depressing day.

The two mates have alternated on deck and in their bunks.