Just as daylight, grey and gloomy, began to appear in the east, an awful tell-tale rasping was heard beneath the keel of the Wolverine, and almost at once two of her masts went by the board.
“Axes, men!” cried Dickson—“axes, and clear away the wreck!”
It was a dangerous and difficult task, with every now and then a huge sea rushing in from astern, and all but sweeping the decks.
Daylight came in quickly now, though clouds seemingly a mile in depth obscured the sun, and the horizon was close on board of them all around.
But yonder, looming through the mist, was a coral shore, with huge rugged, and apparently volcanic, mountains rising behind it. Fearing she would soon break up, Captain Dickson determined to lower a boat at all hazards, manned by four of his strongest and best sailors. In this Hall begged that his wife might go with the maid, and the request was granted. Mr Hall watched that boat as she rose and fell on the troubled waters with the greatest anxiety and dread. Suddenly he staggered and clutched the rigging, and his eyes seemed starting from his head.
“Oh, my God! my God!” he cried. “My wife! my wife!”
For a bigger wave than any, a huge breaker or bore, in fact came rushing from seawards and engulfed the unfortunate boat.
And she was never seen, nor anyone who had gone in her. The crew and poor Mrs Hall, with her maid, now—
“Lie where pearls lie deep,
Yet none o’er their low bed may weep.”
Mr Hall was led below by the kind-hearted captain himself, and threw himself on a couch in an agony of grief. Dickson forced him to take a large stimulant, and put a man to watch him, fearing he might rush on deck and pitch himself into the sea.