"That's more than some can say!" cried the doctor, pointing to one great ship, the ill-fated Prince, which had evidently dragged her anchors and was drifting perilously towards the cliffs.
"Our tackle is sound and the holding is good," said Trejago, hopefully. "But we ought not to speak so loud. It may alarm Mrs. Wilders."
"Does she not know our danger? Some one ought to tell her. You had better go, McKay."
The aide-de-camp made rather a wry face. He was not fond of Mrs. Wilders, whose manner, sometimes oily, sometimes supercilious, was too changeable to please him, and he felt that the woman was not true.
However, he went down to the cabin, where he found Mrs. Wilders, with a white, scared face, cowering in a corner as she listened to the howling of the storm.
"Is there anything the matter?" she cried, springing up as he appeared. "Is there any danger?"
"I trust not; still, it is well to be prepared."
"For what? Do you mean that we may be lost, drowned—here, in sight of port—all of us—my dear general and myself? It is too dreadful! Why does not the captain run inside the harbour and put us on dry ground?"
"I fear it would be too great a risk to try and make the mouth of the harbour in this gale."
"Then why don't you seek help from some of the other ships—the men-of-war? There are plenty of them all around."