“I had no idea we were so near,” observed the captain, compressing his lips—“can they see anything of those vessels?”
“I have not seen them this quarter of an hour, sir,” replied the signalman, protecting his glass from the rain under his jacket.
“How’s her head now, quarter-master?”
“South-south-east, sir.”
The sky now assumed a different appearance—the white clouds had been exchanged for others dark and murky, the wind roared at intervals, and the rain came down in torrents. Captain Wilson went down into the cabin to examine the barometer.
“The barometer has risen,” said he on his return on deck. “Is the wind steady?”
“No, sir, she’s up and off three points.”
“This will end in a south-wester.”
The wet and heavy sails now flapped from the shifting of the wind.
“Up with the helm, quarter-master.”
“Up it is—she’s off to south-by-west.”
The wind lulled, the rain came down in a deluge—for a minute it was quite calm, and the frigate was on an even keel.
“Man the braces. We shall be taken aback directly, depend upon it.”
The braces were hardly stretched along before this was the case. The wind flew round to the south- west with a loud roar, and it was fortunate that they were prepared—the yards were braced round, and the master asked the captain what course they were to steer.
“We must give it up,” observed Captain Wilson, holding on by the belaying pin. “Shape our course for Cape Sicie, Mr. Jones.”
And the Aurora flew before the gale, under her foresail and topsails close reefed. The weather was now so thick that nothing could be observed twenty yards from the vessel; the thunder pealed, and the lightning darted in every direction over the dark expanse. The watch was called as soon as the sails were trimmed, and all who could went below, wet, uncomfortable, and disappointed.
“What an old Jonah you are, Martin,” said Gascoigne.
“Yes, I am,” replied he; “but we have the worst to come yet, in my opinion. I recollect, not two hundred miles from where we are now, we had just such a gale in the Favourite, and we as nearly went down, when—”
At this moment a tremendous noise was heard above, a shock was felt throughout the whole ship, which trembled fore and aft as if it were about to fall into pieces; loud shrieks were followed by plaintive cries, the lower deck was filled with smoke, and the frigate was down on her beam ends. Without exchanging a word, the whole of the occupants of the berth flew out, and were up the hatchway, not knowing what to think, but convinced that some dreadful accident had taken place.