under my feet tremble perceptibly under the tremendous strain to which
it was subjected as the wind and sea smote her, and for a few breathless
moments I believed she was foundering under us. Then, as she gradually
freed herself of the water that flooded her decks, she gathered way and
went foaming off before the gale like a mad thing.

The next occurrence of which I was clearly conscious was that Chips was
again leaning over toward me and shouting:

"My God! Mr Blackburn, that was a narrer squeak, if ever there was
one! If anybody had told me that the old hooker would have stood it, I
wouldn't ha' believed 'em. But I think we're all right now, so long as
we can keep her runnin' afore it, if only the spars and riggin' 'll
stand the strain. But what about what's ahead of us, sir? Is there
anything that we're likely to run foul of?"

"Nothing, so far as I know," answered I. "The chart shows a clear sea
for some hundreds of miles to the eastward; and before we have run that
distance the gale will have blown itself out. But there is Enderby
trying to claw his way aft. I wonder what news he has for us."

The unnatural, ruddy light in the sky had by this time quite died out,
but it was replaced by a faint, ghostly sheen emitted by the foaming
surface of the wind-scourged sea, and by this feeble radiance it was
just possible to discern the burly form of the boatswain laboriously
clawing aft along the port bulwarks against the tremendous pressure of
the wind. Presently he reached us and seated himself upon the wheel
grating at my feet, gasping and panting for breath.

"Well, Enderby," I shouted, "what's the news from the fore end of the
ship? Did the sea that pooped us do any damage?"

"Not so much as might ha' been expected," returned the boatswain. "The
jolly-boat's clean gone; the life-boat's a wreck; the to'gallant
bulwark, both sides, is gone, for'ard of the fore riggin'; the staysail
blowed out of the bolt-ropes directly the gale struck us; and--worst of
all--we've lost three of our little crowd."

"Lost!" I ejaculated. "What d'ye mean, man?"

"Just what I says, Mr Blackburn," answered the boatswain. "We've lost
three hands--Van Haalst, Mendal, and Manning. The sea that broke aboard
us must have took 'em unawares and swept 'em over the bows, for they was
on deck before we was swept, and when she cleared herself they was
gone!"

"Jove! that's bad news indeed," said I. "We were short-handed enoug