The Count of Monte Cristo

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M. Morrel," said he, "we were somewhere between Cape Blanc and Cape
Boyador, sailing with a fair breeze, south-south-west after a week's
calm, when Captain Gaumard comes up to me--I was at the helm I should
tell you--and says, 'Penelon, what do you think of those clouds coming
up over there?' I was just then looking at them myself. 'What do I
think, captain? Why I think that they are rising faster than they have
any business to do, and that they would not be so black if they didn't
mean mischief.'--'That's my opinion too,' said the captain, 'and I'll
take precautions accordingly. We are carrying too much canvas. Avast,
there, all hands! Take in the studding-sl's and stow the flying jib.' It
was time; the squall was on us, and the vessel began to heel. 'Ah,' said
the captain, 'we have still too much canvas set; all hands lower
the mains'l!' Five minutes after, it was down; and we sailed under
mizzen-tops'ls and to'gall'nt sails. 'Well, Penelon,' said the captain,
'what makes you shake your head?' 'Why,' I says, 'I still think you've
got too much on.' 'I think you're right,' answered he, 'we shall have a
gale.' 'A gale? More than that, we shall have a tempest, or I don't know