Not a star to-night.
It was pitchy dark, for the horizon was close aboard of the storm-tormented ship, and the clouds may have been half a mile in depth. There were two men at the wheel, and those who had to keep watch were fain to lash themselves to rigging or shrouds.
But keeping watch is here but a figure of speech. What watch could be kept in a dark so dark? There was no thunder that could be heard, but the occasional flashes of lightning that dazzled the eyes one moment only rendered the darkness more intense the next.
It must have been about four bells in the first watch, and those in the saloon were trying to obtain a kind of scrambling supper. Old Pen had come aft, and Vike was here too. Both knew that to-night there was danger on the deep.
Suddenly there came a shout from those on deck, this was followed by a crashing sound like the splintering of masts, a loud grating noise, and then all motion ceased.
"We are doomed, boys, but we must still continue to have faith in our heavenly Father."
"Do you think, sir," faltered Frank, "that--that we are wrecked?"
"We are driven on shore, lad, but where, it is impossible to say."
The ship was already battened down, so that, although the seas were making a clean breach over her, there was no immediate danger.
The mate found his way below.