"The mist is thinning again. 'Twill clear away in a moment," he answered evasively. "We shall see more distinctly then; she was making toward us, I think." He could not bear to dash her hopes with the assurance that it was not the Richard, though he had resigned himself to death in consequence of his glimpse at once. It was useless to try to fly; the mist was rising in every direction, and before they could have gone a hundred yards they would be visible to the ship in front of them, now shoving her huge bulk through the thinning clouds of vapor which enshrouded her. The next moment it rolled away. The sunlight flooded the heavens in transformation; the breeze tossed the sea into a thousand white-capped waves. It was morning. Some one on the ship saw the little boat with its two occupants at once; an officer leaped to the rail.
"Boat ahoy!" rang out over the water. The great white frigate, deep sunken, as if deeply laden, was moving sluggishly through the water, and was almost upon them.
"The ship!" screamed the girl, wildly.
"It is the Serapis!" answered O'Neill, in a hollow voice.
"Ah!" she said, sinking back exhausted. "After all, it is over. I shall never survive you."
"Boat ahoy, there!" again cried the officer, standing on the rail, pistol in hand. "Answer my hail, or I fire. Who are you?"
"I am your prisoner, escaped last night from that ship," cried O'Neill. "I wish to deliver myself up."
"Come alongside, then," said the officer, turning inboard and giving a sharp command. The way of the ship was checked; she was thrown up into the wind, and as her broadside slowly swung opposite O'Neill, he saw that her mainmast was gone and that she was frightfully cut up, and bore evidence of having participated in a tremendous action. Away off to the northeast a little cluster of ships were seen on the horizon, too far off to distinguish them. There was no sign of the Richard that he could see. In a few seconds the boat was brought alongside the gangway. Elizabeth clambered up the ladder with his assistance, and they stepped upon the decks. A frightful scene presented itself.
Upon one side amidships, dead men, half-naked, covered with coagulated blood, were literally piled up in a great heap. The deck itself was covered with grime and blood; and a handful of men, most of them wounded in some way, were distributed about the ship, endeavoring to effect some restoration to order. Guns here and there were dismounted; ropes cut in every direction were lying entangled in wild confusion about the fife-rails and masts. The broken mainmast thrust its jagged end a few feet into the air, above the deck; the rest of it was gone.
Spars everywhere were shattered, and great rifts appeared in the flapping canvas. The rail and bulwarks were broken and smashed on every side. There was not a single boat left swinging at the davits. Splintered woodwork showed where numberless shots had taken effect, and charred pieces of timber on every hand added heartbreaking evidence of conflagration's devastating touch. From the depths beneath the deck came low groans and murmurs of pain, accentuated by the sharp shriek of some deeper sufferer, or the delirious raving of some fevered patient. Elizabeth shrank back appalled.