Presently the starboard engine gave out. The stokehold was flooded and the fires damped. Within a few minutes the port engines followed suit, and although still carrying way the Portchester Castle gradually slowed down. Her head fell off, and she wallowed in the trough of the breakers.
By this time her rail on the starboard side was only a few feet above water. She was deep down by the stern, her bows being correspondingly high. The very lifelessness of the ship, in spite of the enormous waves, showed that the end was not far off.
"Lower away!" shouted the skipper through a megaphone.
Smartly, but without undue haste or confusion, the boats in the davits on the starboard side were lowered. The first to disengage from the falls was the second cutter. Barely had she cast off when a terrific sea caught and completely capsized her. Half a dozen of her crew succeeded in catching hold of life-lines thrown by their comrades on board the ship, and were hauled on board again. Some were trapped underneath the upturned boat, others, supported by the life-belts, were swept shorewards through the chaos of surf and foam.
The remaining boats on the starboard side got away without accident; then, owing possibly to the amount of water that had poured into the ship's engine-rooms and holds, the Portchester Castle swung back on an even keel.
Captain M'Bride saw his chance—and took it.
"Let go both anchors!" he shouted.
With a rattle and a roar the steel cables rushed through the hawse-pipes, and presently, the vessel's drive to leeward being checked, she swung round, with her bows pointing diagonally for the shore.
Now was the opportunity to man and lower the boats on the port side. Osborne, his work on deck accomplished, took charge of one, Webb of another; and with only the loss of a couple of oars which were smashed against the ship's side the frail craft took the water.
"Look out, she's going!" exclaimed a score of voices.