"Somewhat. Not much, I hope—but joy, as well as blood, gives strength, Nigel."
A report from a man who had just been ordered to take soundings induced the captain at this time to lay-to.
"It seems to me," he said to Nigel and the hermit who stood close beside him, "that we are getting too near shore. But in cases o' this kind the bottom o' the sea itself can't be depended on."
"What part of the shore are we near, d' you think, father?"
"Stand by to let go the anchor!" roared the captain, instead of answering the question.
"Ay, ay, sir," replied the second mate, whose cool, sing-song, business-like tone at such a moment actually tended to inspire a measure of confidence in those around him.
Another moment, and the rattling chain caused a tremor through the vessel, which ceased when the anchor touched bottom, and they rode head to wind. Coruscations of bluish light seemed to play about the masts, and balls of electric fire tipped the yards, throwing for a short time a ghastly sheen over the ship and crew, for the profound darkness had again settled down, owing, no doubt, to another choking of the Krakatoa vent.
Before the light referred to went out, Moses was struck violently on the chest by something soft, which caused him to stagger.
It was Spinkie! In the midst of the unusual horrors that surrounded him, while clinging to the unfamiliar mizzen shrouds on which in desperation the poor monkey had found a temporary refuge, the electric fire showed him the dark figure of his old familiar friend standing not far off. With a shriek of not quite hopeless despair, and an inconceivable bound, Spinkie launched himself into space. His early training in the forest stood him in good stead at that crisis! As already said he hit the mark fairly, and clung to Moses with a tenacity that was born of mingled love and desperation. Finding that nothing short of cruelty would unfix his little friend, Moses stuffed him inside the breast of his cotton shirt. In this haven of rest the monkey heaved a sigh of profound contentment, folded his hands on his bosom, and meekly went to sleep.
Two of the excessively violent paroxysms of the volcano, above referred to, had by that time taken place, but the third, and worst—that which occurred about 10 A.M.—was yet in store for them, though they knew it not, and a lull in the roar, accompanied by thicker darkness than ever, was its precursor. There was not, however, any lull in the violence of the wind.