oard felt it to be a solemn time. The only sounds heard were
those of the clanking pumps, and the gush of water as it was forced up
from below. The wind was every instant increasing. The topsails were
closely reefed, and the "Ranger" went plunging on into the fast-rising
seas.

At length the cold light of early morn broke on the countenances of the
crew; many looked pale and haggard. The past hours had been trying
ones, and the soldiers, some in their shirts and trousers only, were
labouring away manfully at the pumps; the crew at their stations, ready
to obey the commands which any sudden emergency might demand. At length
the carpenter reported that he had so far conquered the leaks that the
ship might safely be put again on the port tack.

"Helm a-lee!" was heard. "Shift tacks and sheets! Mainsail haul! of
all haul!" shouted Commander Newcombe; but at that instant, before the
words were well out of his mouth, while the yards were in the act of
being swung round, a terrific blast laid the ship over, a heavy sea
striking her at the same time. For an instant it seemed as if she would
never rise again. Shrieks were heart! rising from the foaming waters
under her lee; several poor fellows were seen struggling amid them. No
help could be given; no boat would have lived in that sea, had there
been time to lower one, before they had sunk for ever. Their fate might
soon be that of all on board.

The commander, after a moment's consultation with the first-lieutenant
and master, had summoned the carpenter, who appeared directly afterwards
with his crew and several picked men with axes in their hands. They
stood round the mizen-mast. "Cut," he cried. The mizen shrouds were
severed, a few splinters were seen to fly from the mast, and over it
fell into the seething sea. Still the ship did not rise. They sprang
to the mainmast. "That, too, must go," said the commander, and issued
the order to cut. In another instant the tall mast fell into the sea.
For a moment it seemed doubtful whether that would have any effect.
Suddenly the ship rose with a violent motion to an even keel, carrying
away, as she did so, her fore-topmast. The helm was put up. Onwards
she flew before the still-increasing gale. The seas rolled savagely up
with foaming crests, as if trying to overwhelm her. To attempt to heave
her to without any after-sail would now be hopeless.

Willy Dicey, who had gone aft, heard the commander remark to the