Uncle Rik rose with a laugh, and obediently went on deck to play. But the play did not last long, for that day ominous clouds rose in the west, and, overspreading the sky, soon drenched the little yacht with rain. Towards evening the rain ceased, but the wind increased to a gale, and the weather showed signs of becoming what is known among seamen, we believe, as dirty. Ere long the low mutterings of thunder increased to mighty peals, and the occasional gleams of lightning to frequent and vivid flashes, that lit up the scene with the brilliancy of full moonlight.
“I wish we were nearer shore,” said Letta, timidly, to Robin, as they stood looking over the bulwarks; “what is the land we see far away on our left?”
“The Island of Mull,” returned Robin.
“Better if it was further away,” growled Captain Rik, who overheard the remark. “We want plenty of sea-room on a night like this.”
“We’ve got sea-room enough,” observed “Captain” Slagg, with the confidence of a man who knows well what he is about, as he stood by the tiller, balancing himself with his legs well apart.
“You’ve got a lightning conductor on the mast, of course?” observed Captain Rik to Sam.
“No,” replied Sam.
“Sam!” exclaimed the captain in a tone of intense surprise, “you, of all men, without such a safeguard.”
“Well, uncle Rik,” replied Sam with a laugh, “yachts are not always fitted with conductors. But I’m not so bad as you think me. I had ordered a special conductor with some trifling novelties of construction for the yacht, but it was not ready when we started, so we had to sail without it. However, it is not once in a thousand times that a vessel is struck by lightning.”
While Sam was yet speaking, a flash of lightning almost blinded them, and the little schooner received a shock which told of disaster. Next moment the roar of reverberating thunder drowned the crash of timber as the topmast went overboard, carrying the bowsprit and its gear along with it.