It is a desperate strife of waters, and into the very thick of the fray, straight as an arrow, the boat rushes. The strength of the gale is so great, the men only dare to hoist a close-reefed foresail; but swiftly it bears the boat along. At times the boat is so overrun with broken water and surf that the men can scarcely breathe. They, however, cling resolutely to the boat, and again and again she shakes herself free of water, and the men straighten themselves for a moment, draw a few long breaths, when again they meet a tangle of broken waves. Down into the trough of the troubled seas the boat plunges, and over her and her crew the waves again rush in all directions; and thus she undauntedly works her way to the wreck.
CHAPTER XI. THE EMIGRANT SHIP.
"Borne upon the ocean's foam,
Far from native land and home,
Midnight's curtain, dense with wrath,
Brooding o'er our venturous path.
While the mountain wave is rolling,
And the ship's bell faintly tolling: