An hour went by, and the storm seemed on the point of subsiding altogether. Feeling they could now walk around a little, the boys moved from one end of the steamer to the other with caution. The deck was still slippery and it was now dark.
Important events sometimes happen with alarming swiftness and such proved to be the case in the present instance. It had looked as if the storm was about at an end, but without warning there came another blow, which sent the spray flying in all directions. The lookouts were drenched and for the moment could see nothing. Then as the spray cleared away for an instant, one of them gave a mad yell in French:
“A ship! A ship dead ahead!”
The cry had hardly pierced the air when there came a tremendous shock which shook the Vendee from stem to stern and caused the steamer to list well over to port. Sam and Darry, who had started back for the cabin, to change their wet jackets, were pitched headlong and bumped into each other close to a post.
“Oh!” groaned Sam.
“Are you hurt, Beans?” questioned Darry, catching his chum by the shoulder.
“A little. What was that struck us?”
“I don’t know.”
Another cry now came out of the darkness. But it was in French and they could not understand it. Then some sailors rushed past them with a large square of canvas and some ropes.
“We have been struck and they are going to cover the hole with sailcloth,” explained another passenger, who could speak both French and English. “What we struck nobody knows excepting that it was some kind of vessel.”