The Three Admirals | Page 5

to drive on before the gale. The second lieutenant
came forward, but he had to confess that his eyes were of little value to
pierce the dark gloom ahead. The foam-crested waves could alone be
seen, rapidly rising and falling. Tom's eyes ached. He was not sorry
when he was relieved. Still, neither he nor any one else felt inclined to
go below; no one could tell what might happen. The thick clouds hung
down like a dark canopy, apparently just above the masts' heads. The
thunder, which had been rumbling in the distance, now began to roar
loudly, while flashes of forked lightning came zig-zagging through the
air, threatening every instant to strike the ship. But, though they played
round on all sides, none touched her. The commander had ordered the
fires to be got up, so that the ship might be under steam, ready for any
emergency.
Hour after hour the typhoon continued to howl even more fiercely than
at first. Frequently a blast would strike the ship, making her tremble as
if some solid mass had been hurled against her. Then there would come
a lull for a few seconds, then another blast would suddenly strike her in
a way that made every plank shake throughout her frame. Even the
most hardy on board wished for day. The morning light brought no
abatement of the gale.
Onward went the ship, now plunging into a vast hollow, which
threatened to engulf her; now she rose rapidly to the top of another sea,
while on either side they appeared to be vying with each other, which

could leap the highest and accomplish her destruction.
The officers were gathered aft, the men in the waist, holding on firmly
to the stanchions, or anything to which they could secure themselves.
Each time that the ship plunged her head into the seas, the masts bent,
as if every moment they would go by the board. At length a lull came,
and the commander, having consulted with Green, fearing dangers
ahead, determined to bring the ship to, an operation attended by
considerable risk, as a sea striking her at the moment might sweep her
deck. A favourable opportunity was waited for. The crew stood ready
to lower the fore-topsail and hoist the main-topsail, which had been
closely reefed. Both tasks were accomplished; the officers were
anxiously watching the seas as the ship rode over them, but happily she
was safely rounded to, and now lay with her main-topsail to the mast,
though scarcely had she got into that position, than a fierce
foam-crested sea, roaring up, struck her bows and deluged her decks,
but shaking herself clear, like a thing of life, she sprang forward, while
the water rushed through the ports. The lull continued, and many hoped
that the gale was breaking; but in less than an hour another furious
squall struck the ship, and nearly laid her over on her beam ends. Once
more she rose, her stout canvas having stood the severe trial to which it
had been put, and she rode with comparative ease for a few minutes.
The seas, however, seemed to become more broken than ever. A
prodigious one came roaring towards the weather bow. The Dragon
appeared to see her danger, and struggled to avoid it, but the next
instant she pitched headlong into a deep hollow, when another
monstrous wave, rising apparently half as high as the foretop, fell
completely down on her deck. For a few seconds, her commander and
his officers feared that she would never again rise. No orders could be
issued, and nothing could be done. The crew stood silently at their
stations, not uttering a word, or showing that they felt the fearful
predicament in which they were placed.
The ship remained, as it were, fixed in the sea; then with a sudden jerk
she burst her way through it, but her stout bowsprit was broken short
off, and the next sea threw the wreck of it across the forecastle. The

commander's voice was now heard in tones vying with the howling of
the gale. The crew, obedient to his orders, rushed forward to secure the
bowsprit with lashings; while the boatswain, with another gang, lost not
a moment in setting up fresh stays, to prevent the foremast being
carried away.
This, with the loss of one of the boats, and the forepart of the bulwarks
stove in, were the chief damages hitherto received by the Dragon
during the gale. It was not over, however. Again the sun set, and the
wind continued to rage with unabated fury. The watch below had been
ordered to turn in, but few of the officers had done so, and, though tired
out, still remained on deck. Tom and Archie were standing aft, close
together, when