The effect was very curious: behind us the dull coppery glow becoming fainter minute by minute, as the darkness increased the blackness before us; and one’s instinct seemed to warn one to turn from the black darkness to sail away towards the light. Tom Jecks took the same idea, and said, in an irritable whisper, exactly what I thought—
“Seems rum, sir, don’t it, sir?—makes believe as that’s the best way, when all the time the wussest looking is the safest.”
Just then, after a glance round, Mr Brooke uttered another warning to the men to be ready, and settled himself down to the tiller.
“Sit fast, all of you; the hurricane may be down upon us at any moment now.”
I looked at him wonderingly, for it was painfully still, though the darkness was growing intense, and the great junk seemed to have been swallowed up by the clouds that hung low like a fog over the sea.
“There will be such a turmoil of the elements directly,” continued Mr Brooke in a low voice, but only to me, “that I don’t suppose a word will be heard.” Then aloud, “Look here, my lads; I shall try and run the boat high upon the sands at the top of some breaker. Then it will be every man for himself. Never mind the boat—that is sure to be destroyed—but each man try to save his arms and ammunition; and if the two wounded men are in difficulties, of course you will lend a hand. Now then, one more order: The moment I say, ‘Down with the sail,’ drag it from the mast, and two oars are to be out on either side. The wind will catch them and send us along, and I want them to give a few dips to get on the top of a roller to carry us in.”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“That’s all.”
His words in that terrible stillness sounded to me as almost absurd, for the sea was still calm, and save that sighing in the air of which I have before spoken, there was no further sound; and at last I said to him—
“Do you really think we shall have a hurricane?”