we clear away the wreckage. There's no call to be alarmed, sir.
On my word and honour as a man there's no call, sir. I beg you not to
come on deck yet--ye'll only be in the way. Trust to me, sir--it's all
right, I say," and the hatch was closed again.

Wreckage! The word sounded as miserably in my ear as though it had
been the shout of "Heaven have mercy upon us!" What had been wrecked?
What had happened? Was the yacht stove? Had we lost our mast? I had
heard no crash, no noise of splintering, no resounding thump as of a
fall. I listened, struck another match, and then lighted the lamp
afresh. I might know now that the _Spitfire_ was dead before the wind,
seething almost soundlessly through the foam of the storm-swept
surface. She was going along with a steadiness that was startling when
one thought of and listened to the weather; for her plunges were so
long and buoyant as to be scarcely noticeable, whilst sea and swell
being directly in her wake, her rolling was of the lightest. This
scudding likewise took something of the weight out of the blast howling
after us; the echo as of thunder penetrating to the cabin was,
comparatively speaking, dulled; but I was sailor enough to know that we
should be having a heavy sea anon, and that if the yacht was crippled
aloft or injured below, then the merciful powers only knew how it was
going to end with us.

These thoughts were in my mind as I lighted the lamp. I now knocked on
Grace's door, and told her to rise and dress herself, and join me in
the cabin.

"There is no danger," I shouted, "nothing but a passing capful of wind."

She made some answer which I could not catch, but I might be sure that
the upright posture and buoyant motions of the scudding yacht had
tranquillised her mind; moreover, all sounds would penetrate her berth
in very muffled tones. Still, if she looked at her watch, she might
wonder why she had to rise and dress at half-past three o'clock in the
morning!

I sat alone for some ten minutes, during which the height and volume of
the sea sensibly increased, though as the yacht continued flying dead
before the wind, her plunges were still too long and gradual to be
distressing. Occasionally a shout would sound on deck, but what the
men were about I could not conceive.

The door of the forward berth was opened, and Grace entered the cabin.
Her face was white as death; her large eyes, which seemed of a coal
blackness in the lamplight, and b