midnight
Hurtling seas swept the decks , tearing stout fittings from their lashings . The crazy old half-deck seemed about to fetch loose with every sea that crashed aboard . From stem to stern there was no shelter from the growing fury of the gale ; but still the Old Man held to his course to make the most of the only proper ` slant ' in six weary weeks . At midnight the wind was howling slaughter , and stout Old Jock , dismayed at last at the furious sea upreared against him , was at last forced to lay her to . In a piping squall of snow and sleet we set to haul up the foresail . Even the nigger could not find heart to rouse more than a mournful _ i -- o -- ho _ at the buntlines , as we slowly dragged the heavy slatting canvas to the yard . Intent on the work , we had no eye to the weather , and only the Captain and steersman saw the sweep of a monster sea that bore down on us , white-crested and curling .