The gale reached its height about four o'clock on the following morning, at which hour it was blowing very hard, with an exceedingly heavy and dangerous sea, in which the boats could not possibly have lived but for the precautions which had been taken for their preservation; and even as it was, we repeatedly escaped disaster only by the merest hair's- breadth, and by what seemed to be more a combination of fortuitous circumstances than anything else.  Taken altogether, that night was one of the most tense and long-drawn-out anxieties that I had ever, up to then, experienced.  About two bells in the morning watch the gale broke, and from that moment the strength of the wind moderated so rapidly that by eight bells all danger had passed, the boats were riding dry, and we were able to get breakfast in peace and comfort--all the greater, perhaps, from the fact that when day dawned the pirate brig was nowhere to be seen.  By nine-o'clock the wind and sea had both moderated sufficiently to enable us to resume our voyage.  I therefore, with some difficulty, secured an observation of the sun for the determination of our longitude, and we then proceeded to re-bend our sails, step the masts, and get under way, steering to the northward and westward under double-reefed canvas.  Finally, about noon, we were able to shake out our reefs and proceed under whole canvas, the sea by that time having almost completely gone down, leaving no trace of the previous night's gale beyond a long and very heavy swell, in the hollows of which the two boats continually lost sight of each other.