en the timid among them began to feel hopeful
that after all the gale would be weathered, and the harbour gained.

What the captain thought no one could tell. He remained on the bridge
night and day, clad from head to foot in oil-skin garments, facing the
furious blast as if it were his native air, watching every motion of his
vessel, and gazing intently into the world of ebony ahead as if trying
to read his fate there.

The darkness around was almost palpable. Sometimes it seemed as if the
vessel were rushing against a mighty rock, that towered high above the
masts, but this was only optical illusion, or, perhaps, a denser
storm-cloud than usual passing by, for the steamer continued to plough
her onward way unchecked, save, now and then, by the bursting on her
bows of a monster billow, which caused her to quiver from stem to stern,
and swept the decks with green seas fore and aft. One such sea had
carried away part of the bulwarks, and swept overboard all the loose
material on the decks. Presently, there was a slight diminution in the
force of the seas. The captain noted this, and gave orders to get the
lead ready to heave.

Deep in the iron chambers below, Edgar Berrington stood--not in his
wonted dreamy mood, beside the great crank, but close to the
steering-wheel of the engine,--alert, steady, with his hand on the
wheel, his eye on the index.

Suddenly the order came, "Half-speed,"--then abruptly followed, "Stop."

These orders were obeyed instantly.

The lead was hove--the result, "no bottom at thirty fathoms."

Again Edgar was signalled--"Half-speed," then--as the captain looked
into the darkness ahead, and saw, or thought he saw, it deepen
horribly--came the sharp order, "Astern, full-speed!"

Full well did Edgar know that this implied imminent danger. Quick as
lightning he reversed the engines.

Next moment there was an appalling crash that overturned everything in
the vessel. Our hero was himself wrenched from his position, and hurled
against the bulkhead of the boiler-room; the masts went over the sides
as if they had been pipe-stems, and the wire-ropes snapt like
pack-thread. A moment of appalling silence followed, as if the very
elements had suspended their strife, then there came shriek and cry from
fore and aft as the passengers rushed frantically about, while above all
yelled the escaping steam when Edgar opened the safety-valves.

The spot where they had struck was partially protected