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"Hard a-lee!" would come the command, and some men would go down

into the smother of the lee rail and haul in or slack away

sheets, while others at the mastheads would shift top- and

staysail tacks.

Her head would swing, there would be a minute of thrashing and

roaring of gear, and the gale would leap into her sails and bend

her down on her side again. Then away she would go.

The station of those on deck was a good two-handed grip on the

ringbolts under the weather-rail, where, so great was the slope

of the deck, they clung desperately for fear of sliding down and

into the swirling torrent.

Hour after hour the Nettie and the Lass fought it out, and hour

after hour the gale increased. Hurricane warnings had been issued

all along the coast, and not a vessel ventured out, but these

stanch fishing vessels cared not a whit.