ON THE 4TH DAY OF AUGUST THERE WAS A VIOLENT windstorm in Whitby, so furious that no one could remember ever having witnessed such weather. The gale struck at midnight and the sea became like a boiling geyser.290 Amid the shaft of light from the Whitby lighthouse, a large schooner was observed with all its sails up. People assumed it was the same ship that had been spotted some days before; it had been watched with curiosity because of its strange steering. Along its route into the harbor there were rocks that had already damaged many vessels, and as the wind blew the ship directly towards these cliffs, it became apparent the schooner was doomed to crash. But suddenly the squall settled, and the ship slipped into the harbor—as if it had suddenly regained control—and ran onto dry land. Crowds gathered down by the seaside. And then, in the flash from the lighthouse, they saw that a dead man was tied to the steering wheel, his head rolling to and fro with the rocking of the ship.