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 36 THE CRATER; CHAPTER III. &quot; God of the dark and heavy deep ! The waves lie sleeping on the sands, Till the fierce trumpet of the storm Hath summon d up their thundering bands; Then the white sails are dashed like foam, Or hurry trembling o er the seas, Till calmed by thee, the sinking gale Serenely breathes, Depart in peace.&quot; PEABODT. THE day that preceded the night of which we are about to speak, was misty, with the wind fresh at east-south east. The Rancocus was running off, south-west, and con sequently was going with the wind free. Captain Crutch- ely had one failing, and it was a very bad one for a ship master ; he would clrink rather too much grog, at his dinner. At all other times he might have been called a sober man ; but, at dinner, he would gulp down three or four glasses of rum and water. In that day rum was much used in America, far more than brandy; and every dinner-table, that had the smallest pretension to be above that of the mere labouring man, had at least a bottle of one of these liquors on it. Wine was not commonly seen at the cabin- table ; or, if seen, it was in those vessels that had recently been in the vine-growing countries, and on special occa sions. Captain Crutchely was fond of the pleasures of the table in another sense. His eating was on a level with his drinking ; and for pigs, and poultry, and vegetables that would keep at sea, his ship was always a little remark able. On the day in question, it happened to be the birthday of Mrs. Crutchely, and the captain had drunk even a little more than common. Now, when a man is in the habit of drinking rather more than is good for him, an addition of a little more than common is very apt to upset him. Such, in sober truth, was the case with the commander of the