The captain is on deck; he is well-pleased at the prospect of making a rapid voyage, and seeing that the night is likely to be wet and squally, he gives his crew an extra glass of grog all round and goes below, taking a last look at the compass, and feeling fully assured that they are steering a straight course home.
In an hour or two the men on deck have their attention aroused by a hoarse murmur which seems right a head of them, and which sounds like the noise of waves breaking upon the shore. They look at the compass, their course is correct, they cannot account for it; a couple of men run forward, and soon see distinctly a white line of foam gleaming out in the darkness, and make out the flash of the breakers as they leap high in the air; they are terror-stricken at the sight, and, with a loud cry of "Breakers ahead! breakers ahead!" they rush to the hatchway and shout to the captain to come on deck at once; he, poor man, rushes up and hurries to the wheel, round it flies, but before he can get the brig's head round, she mounts upon a breaker, is thrown forward and grounds heavily upon the Sands.
Where are they? Where can they be? What horrible mistake have they made? they think they must have run somewhere on the mainland, on the Kent coast; one man proposes to swim ashore with a rope, but the seas come sweeping over them with a degree of violence, that quite does away with any thought of making such an attempt. They hurry to the long boat to try and get it out, but it and the only other boat which is in the brig are speedily swept over board by the seas. The vessel is on the edge of the sands and feels all the force of the waves as they roll in and leap and break upon the bank; with every inrush of the seas she lifts high and pitches, crashing her bow down on the sands, each time with a thump that makes her timbers groan, and almost sends the men flying from the deck.
As the big waves recoil and leap against her in all directions she rolls heavily, while her masts sway, and her yard-arms almost touch the water on either side.
The tide is rising, and as she lifts she beats each time a yard or two over the Sands; the timbers, piled upon her decks, speedily break loose and are washed away; the hull is writhing and working very badly—her seams open; and so heavily does she strike, that time after time the captain thinks that she must soon break up. This thrashing over the Sands lasts for about twenty minutes, when they find that she is in deep water, but completely water-logged, and torn and wrenched almost to pieces; her rudder is knocked away, and if her cargo were anything but deals she would sink at once, and all would be instantly drowned; as it is, so long as her timbers will hold together her cargo will keep her afloat, and her crew are comparatively safe. But she is by no means a strongly-built vessel, and could not by any possibility stand much more of the thumping and wrenching which she has just gone through, while beating over the Sands.
The captain is still unable to make out where they are; they get a heave of the lead, and find that they are in thirteen fathoms of water; it must be a sandbank in the middle of a channel that they have just beaten over—they had better anchor at once for fear the ship should be driven upon another bank.
"Is the anchor clear?"
"No," cries the mate. (It is neglect of such matters as these that loses many a fine ship.)
"Get the anchor and cable clear, then, as quickly as you can, or we shall be on the sands again; for although the brig is water-logged, the wind is driving her fast, and the tide is running with great speed." After some delay they get the anchor overboard, and the brig rides to it, head to wind.
The men gather together in the stern of the vessel, and group round the captain, and as there is no work to be done to keep up their excitement, they the more fully realize their danger, and begin to express their fears.