During this period of suspense the lead was kept constantly going, and reported almost every half-minute. Precious, significant, half-minutes those, as much so as are the last few grains of sand in the hour-glass!
“Keep her away two points,” cried Bax.
“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the steersman. At that moment a violent gust snapped the topsail-yard, and the sail was instantly blown to ribbons. The dashing of this spar about carried away the foretop-mast, and almost as a necessary consequence, the jib with the jib-boom went along with it.
The schooner instantly became unmanageable, and was driven bodily to leeward.
Seizing an axe, Bax, with the prompt assistance of the crew and his friends, soon cleared away the wreck, and once more got the head of his vessel round towards the Gull Light, the lanterns of which were seen faintly gleaming through the murky atmosphere. But it was too late. The breakers of the North-sand-head were already roaring under their lee, and also right ahead of them.
“Port! port! hard a-port!” shouted Bax.
“Port it is,” replied the steersman, with that calm professional sing-song tone peculiar to seamen.
At that instant, the schooner struck the sand, passed over the first line of breakers, and rushed onwards to certain destruction.
“Bring Lucy on deck,” cried Bax.
Mr Burton ran below to obey, but the words had scarce been spoken when Guy Foster entered the cabin, and seizing the trembling girl in his arms, bore her gently but swiftly to the deck.