“Why, what’s happened? Oh, I remember—the captain and the mate. They knocked me insensible. Where are they?”
“Gone.”
“Gone—where?”
“They locked you in and left the ship in the long-boat;” and Will related what had occurred.
“The scoundrels!” ejaculated the boatswain. “Stay here, my lads, for the ship’s tossing at a terrible rate, and it ain’t safe for you to go on deck.”
The practiced eye of the old sailor took in the peculiar position of the ship at a glance.
One of the masts was broken, and whole parts of the deck had been swept away. The forward part of the ship dipped low, as though disabled, and its course was erratic and unguided by rudder or sails.
Amid the darkness there was no sight of the long-boat.
“You’re right, lads,” said the old tar, returning to the cabin. “The ship is deserted and at the mercy of the storm—and a bad storm it is.”
As he spoke, a gigantic wave swept over the deck and into the cabin.