Suddenly a loud roar was heard, and it seemed as if some mighty monster of the deep had struck a prodigious blow on the side of the ship. Over she heeled until the water rushed in at her lee ports.
“Up with the helm. Furl the main-topsail. Take another reef in the fore-topsail. We must run before it,” cried the commander, hoping to steer clear of any islands or reefs which might be ahead.
The ship quickly rose to an even keel, and dashed forward amid the foaming seas, rolling, however, even more violently than before. So rapidly did the waves follow, that many struck her stern; not, however, before her dead lights had been closed. So tremendous were some of the blows, that it seemed as if her masts would be shaken out of her. The doctor and purser, who were sitting in the gun room, were thrown off their seats sprawling under the table, fully believing that the ship had struck a rock, and that all hands would soon be struggling for their lives.
As soon as things could be got to rights, Tom helped Desmond below, and he was glad enough to again turn into his hammock, which he had before been so anxious to quit.
“Shure we have got Harry Cane aboard of us, Mr Rogers,” observed Tim Nolan, who was in Tom’s watch, and took the liberty of an old shipmate to address his officer with a freedom on which others would not have ventured. They were both stationed together on the forecastle, looking out ahead.
“I wish that the gentleman would be good enough to take himself off, then,” answered Tom, “or he may be playing us a scurvy trick, by sending our craft on some of the ugly reefs which abound hereabouts.”
“We’ll be after keeping a bright look-out for that, sir,” said Tim.
“We may be on a reef before we can see it,” observed Tom. “For my part, if I did not believe that Providence was steering us, I should not be at all comfortable.”
The ship continued to drive on before the gale. The second lieutenant came forward, but he had to confess that his eyes were of little value to pierce the dark gloom ahead. The foam-crested waves could alone be seen, rapidly rising and falling. Tom’s eyes ached. He was not sorry when he was relieved. Still, neither he nor any one else felt inclined to go below; no one could tell what might happen. The thick clouds hung down like a dark canopy, apparently just above the masts’ heads. The thunder, which had been rumbling in the distance, now began to roar loudly, while flashes of forked lightning came zig-zagging through the air, threatening every instant to strike the ship. But, though they played round on all sides, none touched her. The commander had ordered the fires to be got up, so that the ship might be under steam, ready for any emergency.
Hour after hour the typhoon continued to howl even more fiercely than at first. Frequently a blast would strike the ship, making her tremble as if some solid mass had been hurled against her. Then there would come a lull for a few seconds, then another blast would suddenly strike her in a way that made every plank shake throughout her frame. Even the most hardy on board wished for day. The morning light brought no abatement of the gale.