Chapter Twenty One.
How Help came in Time of Need.
The shock was so sudden that the half-awakened and helpless occupants of the boat made no effort to move, but clung to the thwarts of the boat, while the mast, with its heavy rain-saturated sail, snapped off short and fell over the side, dragging by its cords, as the boat rose again after its dive, gliding up a hillock of water, halted for a moment on the summit, and then glided down again.
This was repeated two or three times, and each with less violence, after which, to the surprise and joy of all, the little vessel rose and fell easily as the sea undulated, the officers knowing at once that they had struck upon a reef, which they had but just touched, and then had been carried over it into the calm water of a lagoon, where they rocked peacefully and safely, while only a short distance away the waves were thundering upon the coral rock, and fretting and raging as they roared, apparently wroth at not being able to reach their escaping prey.
“No water to signify,” said the mate, as Billy Widgeon and Small baled hard till their dippers scraped the bottom without success.
The captain did not speak, but pressed his wife’s hand, while for the first time Mrs O’Halloran displayed emotion by taking her half-numbed child to her breast, and sobbing aloud.
The major did not move, but laid one hand on Mark’s knee and gave it a firm grip, sighing hard the while, and then there was silence for a time, as the gig rocked easily in the darkness, while the thunderous roar of the breakers grew less violent; and, instead of being deluged with spray as every billow curved over, there was a sensation as of shelter and warmth which pointed to the fact that the boat must have drifted behind rocks as into some channel; but the intense darkness rendered everything obscure.
“Cheer-ri-ly, mates,” said a voice suddenly, as a slight splashing was heard. “We’re not a-going to be drowned—dead this here time, for I’ve just touched bottom with the hitcher.”