Eudora listened with calm delight.
But while they talked the wind was rising rapidly and lashing the waves into fury. The little vessel began to roll so heavily that Eudora was driven below for safety. Malcolm guided her down into the cabin.
The wind was now so high that they were compelled to take in the sails, and the voice of the captain was heard shouting at the head of the cabin stairs:
“For God’s sake, Mr. Montrose, come up and help us, or we are lost.”
Malcolm secured Eudora as well as he could, and hurried up on deck to render assistance.
The storm came on apace. The sky was now as dark as night. The froth-capped waves rushed like foaming steeds before the lashing of the wind.
The little vessel, driven back on her course, was forced to tack and scud under bare poles before the gale, and towards the coast from whence she had sailed but a few hours ago. All the afternoon the little craft, struggling bravely for her life, was driven furiously before the winds and waves.
As evening deepened, the sky darkened to a blacker hue, and the gale increased in violence. The captain and his mate never left the deck for an instant. Malcolm gave all the aid he could, but went below occasionally to reassure Eudora.
“I am not afraid, dear Malcolm. How could any one who has passed through what I have, be afraid of anything else that could happen in this world? Go on deck and help to save the vessel, and think no more of me,” was her constant answer.
Ah! she did not know that they were being driven swiftly back upon the coast of England, to which they were already fearfully near.