This was done, and the anchor was secured therewith.

"How much water in the hold?" asked the captain.

"Three feet, sir; the carpenter has just sounded. It seems that the
riggers were at work on the pumps when we came out in the tug, but were
stopped by the agents before we got alongside. I fear she is very
leaky, sir," said the mate.

"I _know_ she is," replied the captain; "keep the men at the pumps."

That night the weather became what sailors call "dirty," and next
morning it was found that the water had mounted to 4 feet 10 inches.
The pumps had become almost unworkable, being choked with sand, and it
became evident that the voyage thus inauspiciously begun would very soon
be ended. During the day the "dirty" weather became gale, so that,
although the wind was fair, Captain Phelps determined to run to the
nearest port for shelter. With a "good ship" this might have been done
easily enough--many a vessel does it during every gale that visits our
stormy shores--but the _Swordfish_ was by this time getting water-logged
and unmanageable. She drifted helplessly before the gale, and the heavy
seas broke over her continually, sweeping away everything moveable.
Another night passed, and next morning--Sunday--it became plain that she
was settling down so the captain gave orders to get out the long-boat,
and told the passengers to get ready. Day had broken some time before
this, but the weather was still so thick that nothing could be seen.

"Take a cast of the lead," said the captain.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the prompt reply, but before the order could be
obeyed, the roar of breakers was heard above the howling of the storm,
and the shout, "Land on the port bow!" was instantly followed by "Down
with the helm!" and other orders hurriedly given by the captain and
hastily obeyed by the men. All too late! The ship was embayed. As if
to make their position more painful, the mists cleared partially away,
and revealed the green fields and cottages on shore, with the angry
sea--an impassable caldron of boiling foam--between.

Another instant and the ship struck with a convulsive quiver from stem
to stern. The billows flew madly over her, the main-mast went by the
board--carrying two of the men to their doom along with it--and the
_Swordfish_, "bound for Bombay," was cast, a total wreck, upon the coast
of Cornwall.

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE RESCUE.

Fortunate is it for this land that those who war for evil and thos