Meantime the storm stay-sails had been set, and the helm being put down, the ship was hove-to with her head to the eastward.  As the seas came with the swell, they were regular, and though the ship plunged violently, now rising to the summit of a wave, now sinking down into the trough, there was no fear of any of them breaking on board provided our masts stood.  Such was the state of things when night came on.  The wind howled, and whistled, and shrieked; the sea roared and hissed; the timbers and the masts groaned; the bulkheads creaked; and everything and everybody which was not secured very tightly, tumbled and rolled about in a most uncontrollable manner.  For my part, I confess that I more than once wished I were safe on shore again.  As to turning in, not one of us thought of doing that.  Still the glass was falling, and still the gale was increasing.  With regard to eating, also, all we could do was to nibble a biscuit; for, as Jerry observed, had we attempted to put anything into our mouths with a fork, the chances were that we should have sent fork and all down our throats, or dug the prongs into our eyes or noses, or done some other mischief.  Every now and then Jerry and I started up on deck to see how things were going on, not that we could be of any use there.  Just as we had agreed to go below again, a blast, as if a fresh hand had beep added to the bellows, came down upon us; there was a terrific report, the ship heeled over on her side as if she were going down, and away flew the stay-sails out of the bolt-ropes, followed by nearly all the canvas, which, ill furled in our hurry, broke loose from the gaskets, and, fluttering away with loud flaps, was soon reduced to ribbons, knotted and twisted in every conceivable way.  As the ship fell off into the trough of the sea when her sails rent, a foaming billow came roaring up, and striking her, made a clean breach over us. There were shouts and cries fore and aft.  Jerry and I held on for our lives.  Happily the stanchions we held to did not give way.  Half terrified, and not knowing what was next to happen, we tried to pierce the gloom which surrounded us.  Jerry's chief anxiety was for his father; so was mine, and for Cousin Silas likewise, and, indeed, for our kind friend the doctor.  I had time also, strange as it may seem, to think about old Surley, and to hope that he had not been washed overboard, for unwisely he had followed us on deck.  Very soon we were satisfied that the captain was safe, for we heard him issuing orders in a clear voice which sounded high above the gale.  Directly afterwards Cousin Silas passed us on his way forward, to get the fore-stay-sail on the ship, to bring her head round.