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e sail．Before they had finished the storm struck them．It seemed to Lucy that a great valley in the sea opened just before their bows，and they rushed down into it，deeper down than she would have believed possible．A great grey hill of water， far higher than the mast，rushed to meet them；it looked certain death but they were tossed to the top of it．Then the ship seemed to spin round．A cataract of water poured over the deck；the poop and forecastle were like two islands with a fierce sea between them． Up aloft the sailors were lying out along the yard desperately trying to get control of the sail．A broken rope stood out sideways in the wind as straight and stiff as if it was a poker．
“Get below，Ma’am，”bawled Drinian．And Lucy，knowing that landsmen—and landswomen—are a nuisance to the crew， began to obey．It was not easy．The Dawn Treader was listing terribly to starboard and the deck sloped like the roof of a house． She had to clamber round to the top of the ladder，holding on to the rail
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