Then, as suddenly as they had been overwhelmed, the rush of water subsided, as the Polarity gamely shook herself clear of the giant wave.
Gasping for breath, Leslie took in the scene of confusion. Guy was sprawling on the deck, his hands still grasping a massive belaying-pin in the life-rail. To leeward, the water was pouring in eddying torrents through the scuppers, where five or six of the crew, swept across the deck, were lying in a struggling heap.
Amidships, about ten feet of the bulwarks had been carried away, while the two quarter-boats had been hurled from the davits and smashed to splinters against the battered engine-room hatchway.
Another and yet another wave followed in quick succession, each smaller than the one preceding, and although the Polarity was tossed like a cork, very little water broke on deck.
"Any men lost?" shouted Captain Stormleigh, after the immediate danger was over.
"No, sir," replied Travers. "Bill Smith has fractured his thigh, and there are a few minor injuries."
"We've come out of it lightly, then," rejoined the skipper, "thanks to a merciful Providence."
"We have," agreed Ranworth; then, unbuttoning his fur coat and consulting his watch, he added: "And six precious hours wasted!"