The howling squall took her, through his promptness, almost straight in the nose; or it would have carried all away. Edward clung to the skylight. The terrier skidded about alarmedly all over the cabin-top, slipped off onto the deck, and was kicked by a dashing sailor clean through the galley door. But not so that poor big pig, who was taking an airing on deck at the time. Overboard he went, and vanished to windward, his snout (sometimes) sticking up manfully out of the water. God, Who had sent him the goat and the monkey for a sign, now required his soul of him. Overboard, too, went the coops of fowls, three new-washed shirts, and⁠—of all strange things to get washed away⁠—the grindstone.

Up out of his cabin appeared the captain’s shapeless brown head, cursing the mate as if it was he who had upset the applecart. He came up without his boots, in grey wool socks, and his braces hanging down his back.

“Get below!” muttered the mate furiously. “I can manage her!”