er the
hitherto serene sky, and a thick driving rain, a complete cataract of
water, descended, shrouding the coast from our sight. The seas leaped
to a terrific height in our wake, and following us, almost dashed over
our stern; but the tightly built vessel rose over them, and onward again
we went uninjured. The tempest had raged for three or four hours, and
showed no signs of abating. We climbed up, as we had done before, to
look-out. The whole sea was a mass of tossing waves and foam, and far
as the eye could pierce through the gloom, not another prahu was in
sight. The tempest had scattered far and wide the barks of the fierce
warriors as the summer breeze would the light chaff. The working of the
vessel, as she was tossed up and down by the waves, caused her to leak
most alarmingly, and all hands were set to work to bale her out. In
this we of course very willingly joined, for our lives depended on her
being kept afloat; and it besides enabled us to stretch our limbs and
look about us. Everything capable of holding water was made use of, and
the calabashes, kettles, buckets, and pans were passed along from hand
to hand from the hold to the side of the vessel and back again with the
greatest rapidity. We kept the water under, but that was all; and it
seemed most questionable whether we should be able in this condition to
get back to Sooloo. Along the whole coast there was not a place where
we could venture to enter to repair damages, for although the Malays
might not kill their fellow-religionists they would not hesitate to
confiscate their vessel and to sell them as slaves. While we were
employed as I have described, Fairburn observed to me.

"You were saying, Mr Seaworth, that everything is for the best.
Suppose now we had been caught in our boats by this storm, how do you
fancy the skiff would have weathered it?"

"But badly, I suspect," I replied.

"So I have been thinking. We could not possibly have reached Singapore;
and though we might have been picked up by some vessel, the chances are
that we should not; and so, what we thought our greatest misfortune,
may, after all, have proved the means of our preservation."

"The very idea which has been passing in my mind," I replied. "I
wonder, though, what has become of Captain Van Deck and his wife, and
poor little Maria, and the rest of the party in the long-boat."

"He who rules the waves will have preserved them, if He has thought fit
so to do,"