bowsprit carried away, and she was
obliged to put back into Balaclava for repairs. A few days later she
once more set sail.

"Don't like the look of things," muttered the captain, looking round
anxiously as they sailed from the mouth of the harbour. "If it comes on
to blow on-shore to-night it'll be bad for them ships in there. But it
isn't my affair. The chap as is in command has been warned more than
once already."

"Do you think we are going to catch it again?" asked Phil.

"Can't say for certain, but it looks precious like it; I wonder what the
glass is doing?" and with an anxious expression the captain went to
consult his barometer.

"Falling fast," he said shortly, "and it's getting much colder. We're
in for a dusting, I think. Mr King, get those sails taken off her, and
make all taut. I'll go my rounds in half an hour and see how things
are." He crossed the deck and fell into earnest conversation with his
mate, leaving Phil to make his way aft and talk matters over with Tony.

The captain's fears were not unfounded. That evening, November 14th, a
gale of wind sprang up, blowing dead on-shore, and soon a terrific storm
was raging. With her head jammed close up into it, the _Columbine_
seemed to make fair progress; but soon darkness had obscured the cliffs,
and there was nothing by which to judge their position.

"We're far closer to those cliffs than I like," Phil shouted in Tony's
ear. "Still, we seem to be getting well out to sea, and if only we can
manage that we ought to be safe."

"I'd rather be fighting the whole Russian army than knocking about
here," Tony roared back. "'Tain't that only neither. This sea puts a
chap off his grub, and we ain't had such a lot of late as to let us
afford it. Look what a rat I'm getting;" and with a comical air of
despair he clutched the tunic he wore, to show that it was too large for
him.

An hour passed, and it was very evident that the fury of the storm
increased rather than diminished. Phil struggled on to the poop and
found his way to the captain's side.

"We're in the hands of Providence, I reckon," cried the old sailor
reverently. "Every foot we make we lose to leeward, and away over in
that direction are the cliffs. We're running a trifle more along the
coast now, for there's not a ship that's built that could face this
gale. God help us, young man! We can do nothing more for ourselves."

Three hours later a tremendous sea struck the ill