In the afternoon, while the gale seemed to redouble its force, we sighted land—low, murky and uninteresting, but nevertheless land—and made directly for it.
Darkness came upon us swiftly, but we held our course, still pumping for dear life and awaiting with tense nerves the moment of impact.
What this shore, of which we had caught a glimpse, might be like I did not know, more than that it was reported low and sandy at the ocean’s edge and marshy in the interior. There were a few rocky islands at the south of the isthmus, and there might be rocks or breakers at any point, for all we knew. If the ship struck one of these we were surely doomed.
On and on we flew, with blackness all round us, until on a sudden the bow raised and our speed slackened so abruptly that we were all thrown prostrate upon the deck. The mainmast snapped and fell with a deafening crash, and slowly the ship rolled to starboard until the deck stood at a sharp angle, and trembled a few brief moments, and then lay still.
The voyage of the Gladys H. was at an end.
CHAPTER V
MAKING THE BEST OF IT
“Are you there, Sam?”
“Yes, Ned.”
“Safe and sound?”