The gale seemed to be increasing; the brig pitched and rolled more and more. Suddenly there came a loud clap. The foresail had given way. Jim ran forward, and lowered it on deck.
As I could no longer be of use at the helm, I ran to his help, and we tried to set it again, but all our efforts were in vain. Every moment, too, the seas now raging round the vessel threatened to break on board.
“Peter, the water is coming in as fast as we get it out, and if we don’t keep pumping it will gain upon us,” said Jim.
For fear of being carried away, we made ourselves fast to some stanchions near the pumps, so that we could reach the brakes, and worked away till we were both ready to drop. Now and then we had to stop to draw breath and regain our strength. The hard battered brig pitched and rolled and tumbled, the seas dancing up wildly on every side of her. Again we had stopped, when Jim exclaimed, “Hark! I hear the breakers.”
I listened. The dreaded sound reached my ears. The brig was driving rapidly towards them.
Chapter Twelve.
Port reached in an unexpected manner.
The sound of the breakers grew louder and louder. Every instant we expected to find the brig sent crashing on the rocks, and to have the furious seas breaking over us.