The sound was like some great living monster steering through the water, breathing heavily with every stroke—sighing I had almost said—ceasing sometimes, to be heard closer to the ship the next minute.
Pebbles still held Tom’s hand, as if in his anxiety he had forgotten to let it go; and Tom could feel that hand tremble.
“Look! look! Oh—h!”
The “Oh—h!” was a simultaneous cry of fear from the men. Tom felt like one in a dream. For there in the sea, higher far than the bulwarks, blacker even than the blackness of night, was a shape!
Next instant the ship was struck and staved. Every timber of her shook and shivered from stem to stern, and some loose belaying-pins leapt clear of their holes and fell rattling on deck.
All was shouting and confusion on board now. The captain rushed out of his cabin, the mate ran aft; but no one could tell what had happened.
“She has run on a snag rock?” cried the captain.
“We cannot say, sir; but we saw—”
The carpenter, lantern in hand, appeared from below.
“She is making water at a tremendous rate, sir. Shouldn’t think she’d float an hour.”