But the Portuguese commander was equal to the occasion. Working up under our lee, he tossed a rope to our deck, the other end of which had already been made fast to the waist of the man he was going to send over to us; and no sooner did this fellow see we had caught the line than he plunged into the sea and swam vigorously for us. We speedily pulled him on board, well drenched but none the worse for his voluntary bath. He could speak enough English to make us understand we were only about thirty miles out of Oporto, into which he could take us, notwithstanding the darkness and storm. Greatly relieved, Master Marshall surrendered the command of the brig to him, and under his orders we were soon headed for that city.
Slowly the hours wore away, and as they passed the wind decreased somewhat in its violence, and the sea became less boisterous. It was evident the storm was abating, and new hope filled the hearts of all. Then when the pilot at length declared we were approaching the outer harbor of our desired haven, a cheer broke from the lips of the worn and weary sailors. Five minutes later, however, the newborn hope was suddenly changed to the gravest anxiety.
“Breakers!” called out the bowman, and the pilot himself ran forward at the cry.
“It’s long reef, off harbor,” he said a minute later in his broken English. “Drifted too far south; I soon clear them though.”
But he could not keep his promise. An adverse current as well as an adverse wind was against us, and soon he declared our only hope was to anchor until morning, when with a flood tide and daylight to guide us, we might sweep over the reef. So we cast over our anchor, took in all sail, and anxiously waited for the morning.
But it was not an easy place for a vessel to ride, and before long we discovered we were dragging our anchor, and making straight for the breakers.
“Must take boats—only hope,” the pilot announced.
Before Master Marshall could issue a single order, however, there came a loud rap on the cabin hatch near which I was standing. Throwing off the fastenings, I pushed the cover back and out stepped Captain Weston.
In the darkness we could obtain little idea of his appearance, but his voice sounded out loud and clear, as he asked:
“What’s the trouble? Where are we? Why have I not been called?”