Holding on by ropes stretched across the decks, Captain O’Loughlin and William Thornton called out to the crew to cut away the wreck with their axes, and two men were lashed at the wheel to keep her steady before the storm.
“Be St. Patrick, William,” said the Commander, giving himself a shake, “it was nearly up with us. We shall drive ashore before morning, I fear.”
“God forbid!” said our hero, thinking of the terrified and dismayed females fastened down below. “She is quite tight yet, the carpenter says; very little water in her.”
“So far so well,” said the Captain; “but all depends upon the distance we are from the land. This morning, you know, I calculated as the wind blew that we were about two-and-forty miles from the Spanish coast, in a direct line. As we are going now we shall run aground somewhere between Pralamos and Ampurias, for the force of the hurricane came from the east and south.”
A change was coming over the elements as he spoke; a furious deluge of rain, accompanied with continued peals of thunder took place. Gradually the wind began to lull, and before an hour was out, a ceaseless torrent of rain was the only remains of the tempest, excepting, of course, the sea, which for several hours would remain in a terribly disturbed state. The great danger to be apprehended in the cessation of the hurricane was the Babet’s getting broadside on to the sea, in her perfectly powerless state.
“We shall have the gale out from the Gulf of Lyons before morning,” observed Captain O’Loughlin to our hero. “We are in a nice mess. You may manage to get down below, however, and see how our poor passengers get on; they must be awfully frightened.”
“Sad loss, our masts,” remarked the midshipman, whilst some of the crew were removing the tarpauling over the companion.
“Faith, it’s just what I expected,” said O’Loughlin. “Look at the hasty way we were fitted out; and yet there was no help for it. In the confusion, we were over-masted, too, and the rigging quite new. I’ll venture to say many of the smaller craft foundered in the gale—the heaviest I ever remember.”
The corvette still plunged and rolled tremendously; but, fortunately, they contrived to keep her before the seas, which, owing to the continued and heavy rain, were falling fast.
William Thornton made his way into the principal cabin of the corvette. Notwithstanding everything had been secured in the best possible manner, many things had broken adrift and lay scattered over the floor; a swinging lamp threw a feeble gleam over the handsome saloon. The females were in their private cabins, but Madame Volney’s attendant, a woman who had lived with her many years, and was greatly attached to her, answered our hero’s summons at the door.