The pilot was in favor of making the most of the light of the after-glow to go on further, until it grew dark. They were already above Almas, and not far from Komorn; in those parts he knew the channel so well that he could have steered the vessel safely with his eyes shut. As far up as the Raab Danube, there was no more danger to fear.
And yet there was something! Off Fuzito a soft, dull thud was heard; but at this thud the steersman cried "Halt!" in a fright, to the towing-team.
Timar also grew pale, and stood petrified for a moment. For the first time during the whole voyage dismay was depicted in his features. "We have struck a snag!" he cried to the steersman.
And that great strong man entirely lost his head, left the rudder, and ran crying like a little child across the deck to the cabin.
We have touched a snag! Yes, that was so. When the Danube is in flood it makes breaches in the bank, the uprooted trees fall into the current, and are carried to the bottom by the weight of the soil clinging to their roots; if a cargo-ship drawn by horses touches such a tree-trunk, it pierces the hull. From shallows and rocks the steersman can guard his vessel, but against a tree-trunk lying in ambush under water, neither knowledge, experience nor skill is of any avail. Most of the shipwrecks on the Danube are from this cause.
"It is all up with us!" howled the pilot and the sailors. Every one left his post and ran for his bundle and his chest, to get them into the boat.
The vessel swung across the stream, and the forepart began to sink. It was useless to think of saving it—absolutely impossible. The hold was filled with sacks of grain; before they could shift these in order to get at the leak and stop it, the vessel would long ago have gone down.
Timar broke in the door of Timéa's cabin.
"Fraülein, put on your cloak quickly, and take the casket which stands on the table; our ship is sinking, we must save ourselves." As he spoke he helped her into her warm kaftan, and gave her directions to get into the boat; the pilot would help her. He himself ran back into his cabin to get the box which held the ship's papers and cash. But Johann Fabula was not thinking of helping Timéa; he flew into a rage when he saw the girl. "Didn't I say this milk-face, this witch with the meeting eyebrows, would bring us all to destruction? We ought to have thrown her overboard."
Timéa did not understand what he said, but she shrunk from his bloodshot eyes, and preferred to go back to her cabin, where she lay down, and saw the water rush through the door and mount gradually to the level of the edge of her bed. She thought to herself that if the water washed her away, it would carry her down-stream, to where her father was lying at the bottom of the Danube, and then they would again be united.