s going right in among the rocks and shoals in the direction of the
Tortugas."
There were no signs of the hurricane abating; indeed, it seemed
wonderful that with the cross-breaking seas which raged round the
vessel, she should not have been sent instantly to the bottom. Mr
Collinson and the mate were at the helm. Jack Windy was stationed to
look out ahead--not that looking out would do any good. The schooner
flew on. Night was approaching. Darkness added horror to the scene.
Even the oldest seaman felt his heart sinking, and his cheek paler than
usual.
Sunshine Bill knew as well as any one the danger the schooner was in,
but he said to himself, "This is what seamen have to go through, and He
who saved us before can find a way now for us to escape, even though
coral reefs or rocky islands are ahead."
The crew kept at their stations. No one felt inclined to go below.
Like true British seamen, they determined boldly to face the danger.
Now and then there was a lull and hopes were entertained that the
hurricane was breaking. It only seemed to be taking a rest to obtain
fresh strength. Hour after hour the schooner flew on. Once or twice
Mr Collinson went below to look at the chart, but he was quickly on
deck again to resume his post.
"We must be in the midst of reefs and banks, Tatham," he observed.
"Look out on the starboard bow there. See that wall of white? The sea
is meeting with resistance there, depend on it."
Presently there was a cry forward--
"Breakers! Breakers on the starboard bow." The helm was put
a-starboard, in the hopes of avoiding the reef.
"Breakers! Breakers ahead!" again shouted Jack Windy. "Breakers on the
larboard bow!"
"Grimshaw, come and help Mr Tatham at the helm," shouted Mr Collinson;
and he went forward, scanning the raging, breaking sea ahead.
Soon it seemed as if all around there was a semicircle of white foam,
rising like a lofty wall to impede their progress. Just in one spot
there appeared to be a break. He hurried aft and put the helm to port,
boldly steering the schooner towards it.
Still there was but little hope. Destruction seemed to await the vessel
and all on board. On, on she flew. In another instant there was a
fearful crash, and the masts bent like willow wands. Over they went,
carrying two poor fellows with them, whose death-shriek was heard above
the roar of the breakers. Again the schooner struck. Another sea came
roaring up astern,
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