I followed my father to the main-top, and stood looking out with him for some minutes. At length it appeared to me that about half a mile to the southward there was a space where the ocean was much less agitated than in other parts. I pointed it out to my father.
“You are right,” he said, after a pause. “It may afford us the means of escape; for should the gale continue during the night, no human power can save us—long before it is over, we should be on the reef.”
Having accordingly taken the bearings of the opening, he descended the rigging.
The operation of keeping away, when a ship has been hove-to, is at all times a dangerous one, and requires the most careful management, as the sea may otherwise strike her, and wash everything from her decks. The crew were ordered to their stations. The first mate, with a couple of trusty hands, went to the wheel.
“Up with the helm!” cried my father, waiting till an enormous sea had passed by us. “Brace round the fore-yard!”
It was done, and the brig’s head fell off to the westward. The main-topsail, closely reefed, was set, and we had then as much canvas as she could stagger under. As it was, several seas swept over her deck, carrying away portions of her bulwarks, and doing other damage; but all hands clung on to the stanchions around the mast, and happily no one was washed overboard. As we flew on, we could see the breakers flying high up on our starboard bow; while ahead appeared the opening which we had before made out. The wind, it should be understood, was on our port, or larboard quarter, as it was then called. The topsail-yards bent with the pressure put upon them. Should they go, the brig, deprived of her after-sail, would be unable to weather the southern end of the reef.
On and on we flew. A few minutes would decide our fate. Huge seas came rolling up astern, threatening to break aboard us; while, on either hand, the white breakers rose to the height of our tops,—those on the starboard side being so near us that it appeared even now that we should be overwhelmed. We flew through it, however; and I heard an expression of thankfulness escape my father as the white wall of foam appeared over our starboard quarter. For the present we were in comparative safety; but night was coming on, and the shore could not be far off. Once more we hauled up to the northward; then hove-to under the lee of the reef, hoping that the drift during the night would not carry us on shore. Still, our position was not free from danger. The water, even under the lee of the reef, was considerably agitated, although there was but little risk of the seas actually breaking on board as long as we remained afloat. The order was given to range the cable, and get ready for anchoring, should we approach the shore.
No one turned in, for we could not tell at what moment all hands might be required. Towards the end of the first watch, the gale began to moderate, and our hopes of ultimately escaping rose considerably. My father waited till midnight, and then ordered the watch just relieved to turn in, to be ready to take their duty in the morning. It was my morning watch; so I followed his directions, and turned in to my berth, hoping at daylight to see the coast of Australia, which I had pictured in glowing colours.
I was awakened by an ominous grating sound, and then by a blow which made the vessel quiver from stem to stern. She lifted for an instant, and then down she came again with a crash which seemed to be wrenching her timbers asunder. I knew too well what had happened. We were on shore; and in an instant I realised all the horrors of our situation. The cries and shouts which reached me from the deck left no doubt about the matter.
Shipping on my clothes, I hurried into the cabin, where I found my mother and Edith. Entreating them to remain where they were till my father summoned them, I next went on deck to ascertain the worst.