Tuesday, January 5, 2010

January 4, 1820

January 4, 1820 - Off the mouth of the Rio De La Plate. - We are this morning experiencing a gale from the north.  The violence of the wind has split several of the sails.  We are now running under bare poles at the rate of 7 or 8 miles an hour.  We reel to and fro and stagger like a drunken man.  The tossing mountains around us skip like rams, and the hills like lambs.  The foaming surges lash the trembling sides of our little bark and drench her decks; while the rain like hail pelts the poor sailors as they cling to the whistling rigging and the spray of the sea sweeps over the surface like the driven snow on a northern winter's day.  But he who said to the raging tempest, "Peace be still," can and does afford us protection, and give us peace within.

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