Twice, during six years, we were
      forced to stay all night at anchor on account of a dead calm,
      which is a rare thing indeed just about here; and once we had to
      remain on the grounds nearly a week, starving to death, owing to
      a gale which blew up shortly after our arrival, and made the
      channel too boisterous to be thought of. Upon this occasion we
      should have been driven out to sea in spite of everything, (for
      the whirlpools threw us round and round so violently, that, at
      length, we fouled our anchor and dragged it) if it had not been
      that we drifted into one of the innumerable cross currents—here
      to-day and gone to-morrow—which drove us under the lee of Flimen,
      where, by good luck, we brought up. “I could not tell you the twentieth part of the difficulties we
      encountered ‘on the grounds’—it is a bad spot to be in, even in
      good weather—but we made shift always to run the gauntlet of the
      Moskoe-ström itself without accident; although at times my heart
      has been in my mouth when we happened to be a minute or so behind
      or before the slack. The wind sometimes was not as strong as we
      thought it at starting, and then we made rather less way than we
      could wish, while the current rendered the smack unmanageable. My
      eldest brother had a son eighteen years old, and I had two stout
      boys of my own. These would have been of great assistance at such
      times, in using the sweeps, as well as afterward in fishing—but,
      somehow, although we ran the risk ourselves, we had not the heart
      to let the young ones get into the danger—for, after all is said
      and done, it _was_ a horrible danger, and that is the truth. “It is now within a few days of three years since what I am going
      to tell you occurred. It was on the tenth day of July, 18—, a day
      which the people of this part of the world will never forget—for
      it was one in which blew the most terrible hurricane that ever
      came out of the heavens. And yet all the morning, and indeed
      until late in the afternoon, there was a gentle and steady breeze
      from the south-west, while the sun shone brightly, so that the
      oldest seaman among us could not have foreseen what was to
      follow. “The three of us—my two brothers and myself—had crossed over to
      the islands about two o’clock P. M., and had soon nearly loaded
      the smack with fine fish, which, we all remarked, were more
      plenty that day than we had ever known them. It was just seven,
      _by my watch_, when we weighed and started for home, so as to
      make the worst of the Ström at slack water, which we knew would
      be at eight. “We set out with a fresh wind on our starboard quarter, and for
      some time spanked along at a great rate, never dreaming of
      danger, for indeed we saw not the slightest reason to apprehend
      it. All at once we were taken aback by a breeze from over
      Helseggen. This was most unusual—something that had never
      happened to us before—and I began to feel a little uneasy,
      without exactly knowing why. We put the boat on the wind, but
      could make no headway at all for the eddies, and I was upon the
      point of proposing to return to the anchorage, when, looking
      astern, we saw the whole horizon covered with a singular
      copper-colored cloud that rose with the most amazing velocity. “In the meantime the breeze that had headed us off fell away, and
      we were dead becalmed, drifting about in every direction. This
      state of things, however, did not last long enough to give us
      time to think about it. In less than a minute the storm was upon
      us—in less than two the sky was entirely overcast—and what with
      this and the driving spray, it became suddenly so dark that we
      could not see each other in the smack. “Such a hurricane as then blew it is folly to attempt describing. The oldest seaman in Norway never experienced any thing like it. We had let our sails go by the run before it cleverly took us;
      but, at the first puff, both our masts went by the board as if
      they had been sawed off—the mainmast taking with it my youngest
      brother, who had lashed himself to it for safety. “Our boat was the lightest feather of a thing that ever sat upon
      water. It had a complete flush deck, with only a small hatch near
      the bow, and this hatch it had always been our custom to batten
      down when about to cross the Ström, by way of precaution against
      the chopping seas. But for this circumstance we should have
      foundered at once—for we lay entirely buried for some moments. How my elder brother escaped destruction I cannot say, for I
      never had an opportunity of ascertaining. For my part, as soon as
      I had let the foresail run, I threw myself flat on deck, with my
      feet against the narrow gunwale of the bow, and with my hands
      grasping a ring-bolt near the foot of the fore-mast. It was mere
      instinct that prompted me to do this—which was undoubtedly the
      very best thing I could have done—for I was too much flurried to
      think. “For some moments we were completely deluged, as I say, and all
      this time I held my breath, and clung to the bolt. When I could
      stand it no longer I raised myself upon my knees, still keeping
      hold with my hands, and thus got my head clear. Presently our
      little boat gave herself a shake, just as a dog does in coming
      out of the water, and thus rid herself, in some measure, of the
      seas. I was now trying to get the better of the stupor that had
      come over me, and to collect my senses so as to see what was to
      be done, when I felt somebody grasp my arm. It was my elder
      brother, and my heart leaped for joy, for I had made sure that he
      was overboard—but the next moment all this joy was turned into
      horror—for he put his mouth close to my ear, and screamed out the
      word ‘_Moskoe-ström!_’

      “No one ever will know what my feelings were at that moment. I
      shook from head to foot as if I had had the most violent fit of
      the ague. I knew what he meant by that one word well enough—I
      knew what he wished to make me understand. With the wind that now
      drove us on, we were bound for the whirl of the Ström, and
      nothing could save us! “You perceive that in crossing the Ström _channel_, we always
      went a long way up above the whirl, even in the calmest weather,
      and then had to wait and watch carefully for the slack—but now we
      were driving right upon the pool itself, and in such a hurricane
      as this! ‘To be sure,’ I thought, ‘we shall get there just about
      the slack—there is some little hope in that’—but in the next
      moment I cursed myself for being so great a fool as to dream of
      hope at all.