Steering—as the ship had done—to avoid the waterspout, she had been continually altering her course, so that the captain did not exactly know whereabouts they were. In the midst of the darkness and with the torrents of rain that came pouring down, all traces of land had long disappeared.
All at once a mightier gust of wind came down upon the ship, the beams groaned, then there was a tremendous crash and one of the masts came down. There was a moment of panic and confusion; Vranic fell upon his knees and began to pray for help.
Soon after that a light was seen at no very great distance.
"We are saved," said the captain; "there is Cape Campanella lighthouse."
All eyes were fixed upon that beacon.
"It is rather too low to be Cape Campanella," added the boatswain.
"Yes; and, besides, it flashes every two minutes," replied the captain.
They thereupon concluded that it was the lighthouse on Carena Point, the south-western extremity of the island of Capri.
Thinking it to be Cape Campanella, they had steered towards the light—the only dangerous part of the island, on account of the reef, which stretches out a long way into the sea. When they found out their mistake it was too late to avoid the danger that threatened them; the ship was dashed against the rocks, which were heard grating under the keel and ripping open the sides, like the teeth of some famished monster of the deep. Fortunately, the brig had got tightly wedged between two rocks and kept fast there, so nothing was to be done but work hard at the pumps, trying to keep out as much water as they possibly could.
The night seemed everlasting. Still, by degrees, the storm subsided, and at dawn the wind had gone down and the sea had grown calm.