It seemed as if the moon had dropped from the sky, so suddenly had she been eclipsed by a pall of ink-black clouds, but beneath on the sea, and getting larger and larger every moment, was a long white line evidently approaching with tremendous speed. Flash after flash of lightning appeared to course along it, and a continued roar as of muttering thunder fell on the ears of the frightened fishermen.
The boat had been half round and well into the wind’s eye, but John at once altered the helm, and ere the squall struck her she was once more dead before the wind.
The white wall was a mountain wave, a hurricane wave, borne along before the gale with all the force of Niagara. It struck the boat right aft, and pooped and swamped her, at the same time that the wind caught her and sent her onwards with fearful speed through the broiling, seething waves.
All hands had to hold on for dear life. The only wonder is that the mast did not go by the board, when, without doubt, the brave boat would have broached to and foundered with all hands. She seemed now, however, to settle to it, but there was nothing for it but to stand on before the tempest, even should they be driven far across the North Sea to Denmark itself.
After scudding before the wind for some hours of darkness and tempest, all hands working hard to keep her bailed out, the force of the storm seemed to have been broken, and once again the hopeful moon was seen struggling among the clouds, now and then shining for a few moments in a rift of blue, her sweet rays silvering the crests of the broken waves.
The wind at the same time drew more round to the north, even with a little eastering in it, so John determined now to put about, and make in the direction of the Scottish coast.
He kept her well up, however, being wishful to haul as far to the north as possible. It would thus be more easy to drop down upon the harbour of Blackhive, which he trusted he should be able to reach by daylight.
Had the wind continued to go down, there is no doubt the boat would have made the harbour without further mishap. But the wind was fractious, to say the least of it. It hardly seemed to know its own mind for half-an-hour on a stretch.
Just, however, as daylight, grey and uncertain, was beginning to struggle over the sea, and a strange saturnine light glared over the mountain waves that ridged the eastern horizon, down to leeward, to the infinite joy of those mariner-fishermen a long greyish-blue bank became visible, which they knew was land.
As daylight broadened, and the sun got up, it became more distinct, and they were soon able to make out the white-washed cottage walls of the village itself.