"Good Lord preserve us!" said Captain Wilson in terror.
And well he might be so, for yonder, quite blotting out the clear strip of sky, a huge wave or bore had arisen. It was of semi-lunar shape, and must have been fifty feet high at the very least. The top all along was one mass of foam.
Nearer and nearer it came!
The sailor men crouched in fear, or hastened to make themselves fast by ropes' ends to rigging or shroud.
And now the fine vessel is struck--is wallowing in the midst of that hurricane-tossed turmoil of waters--is on her beam-ends, without any apparent hope of recovery.
But recover she did after a time, and the ocean wave swept on.
What a wreck! The half-drowned men, or those who were left alive, gasped for breath as they stared wildly around. Two masts gone by the boards, only the pitiful foremast left standing; every boat staved and washed away, bulwarks gaping like sheep hurdles, and the poop crushed in.
And the officers where were they? Gone!
Yes--and my story is told from the life and the death--not only bold Captain Wilson himself but both his mates had been swept overboard and drowned.
Five men were missing; nor had all escaped down below. The cook was severely injured, and but for the presence of mind and speed of two ordinary seamen, the ship would have caught fire, for the blazing coals had been dashed out of the range and ignited ropes and twine that lay not far off.