One of these terrible circular storms, all too common in the Indian Ocean, and called typhoons, came roaring down upon them with scarcely a minute's warning.
The higher sails were blown into ribbons, the topgallant masts carried away, and the gallant ship thrown so much on her beam-ends, that the water came over the lee rails.
She righted again, it is true. And speedily too; and now like some living frightened creature she literally flew before the fearful storm.
As speedily as possible the sails that were not split were taken in. This was a very dangerous employment, and one poor fellow was blown off the yardarm.
Nicholson was his name, and he was a powerful swimmer, but useful though this art of swimming is, what could it avail him in a sea like that!
For just a moment or two his brave and handsome face was seen among the surf in the wake.
He waved his hand once, as if bidding his comrades all adieu, then sank to rise no more.
As a rule, circular storms do not last for a very long time, and a good sailor like Talbot knows how to manoeuvre his ship so as to get clear as speedily as possible; but this typhoon ended in a gale, which in force was quite a hurricane.
And this kept on for several days.
The last night was the worst. About six o'clock in the evening the sun went down in a brassy haze, behind the foam-crested turmoil of waves; and the wind seemed still on the increase.