the long-boat we cannot have been less than thirty; the exact number no man will ever know. But we shoved off without mischance; the chief mate had the tiller; the third mate the boat-hook; and six or eight oars were at work, in a fashion, as we plunged among the great smooth sickening mounds and valleys of fathomless ink.

Scarcely were we clear when the foremast dropped down on the fastenings, dashing the jibboom into the water with its load of demented human beings. The mainmast followed by the

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