Low and wild the clouds continued to drift past; but the rain had now slackened. On the other hand, the waves ran higher than ever, so that the captain’s fear that the ship would break up before morning, increased momentarily. Already the wreck was badly logged, as even Kate could see; and at any instant the hull might be expected to part into two pieces, under the blow of some new roller, as powerful as the one which had so nearly carried her off.
“She holds together bravely,” said the captain, when several hours had passed. “The good craft is as tough as old junk. I begin to feel now that she’ll not go to pieces till next tide, at any rate. Have you noticed, Miss Aylesford, that the water is falling?”
“I had not,” answered Kate. “How can you tell in the darkness and storm?”
“Leave an old salt alone for that,” was the reply, with something of that professional pride which even peril cannot entirely subdue. “You see, Miss, the gale’s as high as ever, and the waves run as wild, yet the decks are not swept as often, or as deep, as they were. We haven’t had a surge to reach us since we changed our places. The ship heels over also more, which she would naturally do as the tide went out.”
“I understand,” said Kate. “But look,” she cried, suddenly, “isn’t that morning? Surely, we cannot be mistaken this time.”
She pointed to the east as she spoke, where indeed no streak of light was to be seen, as on ordinary dawns, but where a thinning away of the heavy vapors was quite perceptible. Overhead all was yet blank, and the forms of the clouds were undistinguishable; but in the eastern seaboard, the sky had a fleecy look, as when mists begin to break away on a mountain side.
“You are right,” answered Captain Powell; “it is morning, God be praised.”
“Didn’t I tell you so, aunt?” said Kate, cheerfully, turning to her relative. “You hear what the captain says. It is really daybreak. We shall soon be able to see the shore, and no doubt be succored.”
Oh! the blessed dawn! It comes to the weary invalid, and gives new life to his veins. It comes to the watchers by the bed of death, and inspires them with momentary hope. But never comes it more welcome than to those, who, like our shipwrecked group, expect it as their only reliance. It made even Mrs. Warren feel strong, almost gay again.
Gradually the darkness vanished. It was not by any sudden influx of light, but by an imperceptible growth, which could only be noticed by the changes which long intervals produced. The black curtains of gloom, which had hung like a pall close around, slowly receded, the light diffusing itself, as it were, reluctantly and warily.