“Oh, I hope they won’t,” said Rodd beneath his breath. “Why, it would be horrible, uncle,” he half whispered, with his lips close to his uncle’s face. “She must have a brave captain to dare all this.”
“A very brave captain,” said Uncle Paul earnestly. “But you think she’ll get away, uncle?”
“No, Rodney,” said the doctor, laying his hand with a firm grip upon his nephew’s shoulder. “She may pass through the harbour mouth without being hit by the gunners, for it would require a clever marksman to hit so swiftly moving an object, rising and falling as the brig does now that she is getting into the disturbed water near the mouth.”
“But suppose she passes through untouched, uncle? What then?”
“What then, boy? She will be out of the shelter given by the end of the jetty. It’s too dim now to see, but once or twice I had just a glimpse of the waves washing over the harbour light, and there must be a terrific sea out there. Why, you can hear it plainly even here.”
“No, uncle; that’s the wind.”
“And waves, my boy. Why, trying to sail out there in the teeth of such a gale as this, it will be almost impossible for her to escape. It seems to me to be an act of madness to attempt such an escapade, and cleverly as the brig is handled I think it is doubtful whether she will ever clear the mouth. But if she does she will catch the full force of the storm and—”
“And what, uncle?”
“Be carried away yonder to the east somewhere and cast ashore.”
“Oh–h!” sighed Rodd; and it was almost a groan.