heir force. The conquered barrier
struggled nobly against destruction. The waves had shattered it, and in
their turn were shattered against it. Though overthrown, it still
remained in some degree effective. The rock which barred its passage, an
immovable obstacle held it fast. The defile, as we have said, was very
narrow at that point; the victorious whirlwind had driven forward,
mingled and piled up the wreck of the breakwater in this narrow pass.
The very violence of the assault, by heaping up the mass and driving the
broken ends one into the other, had contributed to make the pile firm.
It was destroyed, but immovable. A few pieces of timber only were swept
away and dispersed by the waves. One passed through the air very near
to Gilliatt. He felt the counter current upon his forehead.

Some waves, however, of that kind which in great tempests return with an
imperturbable regularity, swept over the ruins of the breakwater. They
fell into the defile, and in spite of the many angles of the passage,
set the waters within in commotion. The waters began to roll through the
gorge ominously. The mysterious embraces of the waves among the rocks
were audible.

What means were there of preventing this agitation extending as far as
the sloop? It would not require a long time for the blast of wind to
create a tempest through all the windings of the pass. A few heavy seas
would be sufficient to stave in the sloop and scatter her burden.

Gilliatt shuddered as he reflected.

But he was not disconcerted. No defeat could daunt his soul.

The hurricane had now discovered the true plan of attack, and was
rushing fiercely between the two walls of the strait.

Suddenly a crash was heard, resounding and prolonging itself through the
defile at some distance behind him: a crash more terrible than any he
had yet heard.

It came from the direction of the sloop.

Something disastrous was happening there.

Gilliatt hastened towards it.

From the eastern gullet where he was, he could not see the sloop on
account of the sharp turns of the pass. At the last turn he stopped and
waited for the lightning.

The first flash revealed to him the position of affairs.

The rush of the sea through the eastern entrance had been met by a blast
of wind from the other end. A disaster was near at hand.

The sloop had received no visible damage; anchored as she was, the storm
had little power over her, but the carcase of the Durande was
distressed