Zubiya had seen many squalls, but this was a storm of the worst kind. The sea was a mass of tossing foam, the wind howled through the yards like a chorus of demons at the Judgment Day, a deluge of rain drenching everybody, and the vessel tossed and rolled in the most alarming manner imaginable.

The ropes were so strained that even under the pressure of wind and sea, they only gave by inches at a time. The mainsail flapped against the yard, as if the ship had gone crazy, and several times Zubiya almost lost her footing.

They labored hard for almost an hour, until the top-gallants were all down and tightly stowed. It was getting on towards sundown, but still the wind increased. They decided to take in the mainyard, and as Zubiya bent to the task, her foot slipped, and she fell to the deck.

As she pulled herself erect, she saw that the sea was growing wilder and wilder, and it seemed a hopeless task to even attempt to reef the mainsail, and they began to dread that the storm would drive them from the course.

It was getting terribly dark now, and they were almost driven to despair, but they continued to work at reefing the sail. It was as hard a struggle as ever woman endured, for the wind had now freshened to a hurricane, and they could hear the main-mast groaning and cracking as the vessel pitched and tossed on the wild sea like a little cockle-shell.

Suddenly a huge wave broke over the bows and washed forward. The two who were at the main-yard let go and went flying, and Zubiya, who was holding fast to the mizzen shroud, was swept from the deck.