“I trust she may hold her ground,” said my uncle, as we watched her, already rising and falling with quick jerks, as the seas rapidly passed under her. “What say you?” he said, turning to Roger Trew. “Do you think, if she made sail, she could beat out of this bay, for I fear greatly that with the sea that rolls in here, when there is wind like this, she will be unable to remain at anchor?”
“I am very sure Mr Thudicumb will do his best to beat out of the bay,” answered Roger Trew. “I know that no seaman would like to be caught on a lee-shore like this in such a gale; and if it lasts long, even though the anchors do hold, it is likely enough to tear the stem out of her. The brig is not a bad craft for fine weather sailing, but she is lightly put together, and I wish that she was under weigh clear of the land, and then I would not fear for her.”
“Oh, my friend, my friend,” exclaimed my uncle, “would that you had been safe on shore!”
Scarcely had he spoken, when a flash of lightning, in a thick zig-zag stream, darted from the clouds overhead, running along the ground close to us, followed by the most deafening crash of thunder I ever heard. For an instant our eyes were blinded. We could scarcely see each other, much less observe any object out at sea. It was a minute or more before we recovered our sight.
“She is driving—she is driving!” exclaimed Roger Trew. “They are trying to make sail on her, but it is too late! The sea struck her bows just as she was paying off, and now here she comes bodily in towards the shore.”
We were able, by shading our eyes, once more to look in the direction of the brig. Too true were Roger’s words, and we saw her helplessly driving in towards the wild rocks near which we stood.
“Is the water deep, sir?” asked Roger. “If so, she may drive in close enough to get the people on shore before she goes to pieces.”
“I fear not,” answered Mr Sedgwick. “Reefs run out in all directions, and though, having no boat, I have been unable to sound round the island, yet, from the way I have seen the water breaking, I fear that there are reefs between us and her.”
“If we had a boat we might go off and get aboard her before she strikes,” exclaimed Roger. “Have not you a boat, sir? You would go, would you not? Mr Walter here, I know, would.”
“Unhappily I have no boat,” answered my uncle, in a tone almost of despair. “The crew may, perchance, reach the shore; but my poor friend, made weak from illness, will have but little chance of escaping with life.”