Nathaniel wished he could take one hand off the wheel to wipe his bleeding nose. He wished he had some idea of when the storm would pass. The schooner’s topmasts were bent like wands; the masts trembled, threatening to break the shrouds. How much of this punishment could she take? How much could he take? He knew it was axiomatic among sailors that a small vessel, if she were made right and had sand, stood a better chance of surviving severe seas than a big ship; she floated on the waves instead of driving through them. There was in the small craft a certain necessary submissiveness that was not surrender. Yet, the sturdiest, bravest vessel had her foundering point—the moment when her strength was sapped, the last coin in her treasury of courage was spent, and she quit; or, still having some left, she met the sea, the wind, to which her strength and valor were not equal, and she was defeated. And what about a man? Did each man have his own foundering point? he asked himself. Do I have one, and where is it, and what will find it out? He awaited the climax of the storm with anticipation and dread, in equal measure.

The eye passed over them, creating the illusion that they had passed into an oasis of calm. The wind tumbled to a breeze, the waves shrank, the noise abated, and a circle of blue showed overhead, though the horizon all around was walled by gray. Eliot and Drew came on deck, hoping the tranquillity was deliverance, even when they knew it was only a respite. Worn-out and bruised, Nathaniel wiped his bloody nose with his sleeve and slumped over the wheel. Will sat down and looked with bewilderment at the sky.

“I don’t get it. When we lost our anchors and bore off to south’ard, we should have been sailing away from the eye, but we’ve been sucked into it,” he said, and then, thinking aloud, tried to account for the turn of events. Had they sailed the wrong course? Had the hurricane stalled or changed direction? He muttered things about navigable quadrants and steering currents and speculated as to what would be the best course of action, when the back side struck.

“Doesn’t make sense,” he said. “The storm must’ve changed direction. It’s heading south, but hurricanes almost never go south. The only way that could happen is if the steering currents collapse, and then the storm just kind of goes wherever it feels like.”

Nathaniel slammed him hard in the shoulder with the heel of his hand.