ke before she
could founder.

"'Vast there!" called the captain; "'vast the pumps! All hands stand by to
launch the boats!"

"Long boat's stove!" shouted the mate, putting his hands to his mouth so
as to be heard through the gale.

"All hands aft!" was the next order. "Stand by to launch the
quarter-boats!"

So the entire remaining crew--two mates and eight men, including the
steward--splashed and clambered on to the quarter-deck and took station by
the boat-falls, hanging on as they could.

"Can I do anything?" asked Thurstane.

"Not yet," answered the captain; "you are doing what's right; take care of
the lady."

"What are the chances?" the lieutenant ventured now to inquire.

With fate upon him, and seemingly irresistible, the skipper had dropped
his grim air of conflict and become gentle, almost resigned. His voice was
friendly, sympathetic, and quite calm, as he stepped up by Thurstane's
side and said, "We shall have a tough time of it. The land is only about
ten miles away. At this rate we shall strike it inside of three hours. I
don't see how it can be helped."

"Where shall we strike?"

"Smack into the Bay of Monterey, between the town and Point Pinos.'

"Can I do anything?"

"Do just what you've got in hand. Take care of the lady. See that she gets
into the biggest boat--if we try the boats."

Clara overheard, gave the skipper a kind look, and said, "Thank you,
captain."

"You're fit to be capm of a liner, miss," returned the sailor. "You're one
of the best sort."

For some time longer, while waiting for the final catastrophe, nothing was
done but to hold fast and gaze. The voyagers were like condemned men who
are preceded, followed, accompanied, jostled, and hurried to the place of
death by a vindictive people. The giants of the sea were coming in
multitudes to this execution which they had ordained; all the windward
ocean was full of rising and falling billows, which seemed to trample one
another down in their savage haste. There was no mercy in the formless
faces which grimaced around the doomed ones, nor in the tempestuous voices
which deafened them with threatenings and insult. The breakers seemed to
signal to each other; they were cruelly eloquent with menacing gestures.
There was but one sentence among them, and that sentence was a thousand
times repeated, and it was always DEATH.

To paint the shifting sublimity of the tempest is as difficult as it was
to paint the steadfast sublim