These lines are by Burns, and are descriptive of a storm on shore; yet they fall far short of depicting the scene around the seemingly doomed sloop Grebe. About an hour after, Antonio once more went on deck.
The thunder did indeed bellow, and the lightning was so incessant, that the little craft appeared sailing through a sea of fire. The waves too had risen, and were now houses high. On top of one of these the Grebe quivered from stem to stern, like a creature in fear and agony. She almost hesitated to take the awful plunges into the trough between the waves. Once down the waves dashed high over her, and for a moment or two the sails were all a-shiver.
Antonio himself took a trick at the wheel, that the Dane might go below for supper and refreshment. In Antonio’s hands the craft behaved better, and seemed to feel the master-touch.
In an hour’s time Peterson came back.
Pandoo had already managed to relight the fire, and was busy cooking a delightful little supper for his master and the children.
Davie Drake, wet as he was, refused to go below. He was brave, this boy, without doubt; but let me whisper, reader—he was also affected by the motion. None of the girls were, nor was Barclay himself.
It was nearly nine by the clock, or two bells in the first watch, before Antonio got below.
But, considering everything, that really was a cosy little supper. Of course there were times when everybody had to let their plates lie in the fiddle-nests, that they might hold on fast to the table.
While the children were still enjoying their fruit, Antonio got out his guitar. The weird little man would have gone nowhere on earth without his guitar. And now its sweet, sad tones were heard high above the howling of the wind and the roar of the merciless waves.
It was sea songs he sang to-night, and the seas that beat against the vessel’s side like muffled drums, formed a terrible but appropriate accompaniment.