clearly defined. We cannot well miss our way, and even if we do run aground, the rising tide will soon float us off.
I have taken it for granted that we have had fine weather during our voyage, for the management of a small yacht in heavy weather is a subject that has already been dealt with in another chapter. But there is one matter to which I should like to make reference here. If there is a good harbour under our lee we should of course, as a rule, run for it when overtaken by a gale; but if we are off a dangerous coast, with only small and difficult harbours or river-mouths under our lee, with which we are not acquainted, whose leading marks do not appear on our chart, and into which it would be hazardous to try to find our way without a pilot, it is often the more prudent course not to seek shelter, but to ride out the gale on the open sea as one best can, hove-to under storm canvas or riding to a deep-sea anchor. I was once cruising with a friend who was a fairly good fore-and-aft sailor, but who got scared on one occasion when we were on a lee-shore and it came on to blow hard. He was anxious to run blindly for the mouth of a narrow river obstructed by a dangerous and often-shifting bar (on which the sea was breaking heavily at the time), with the passage across which neither of us was acquainted. He called this prudence, but it was in truth the rashness of panic. I knew that we should in all probability lose our vessel if we made the attempt he proposed,
