led, and whistled sharply at each chink in
the bulwarks of the vessel. For three days had they fought the gale, but
in vain. Now, if it continued, all chance was over; for the shore was on
their lee, distant not many miles. Nothing could save them, but gaining
the mouth of the Frith of Tay, and then they could bear up for Dundee.
And there was a boiling surge, and a dark night, and roaring seas, and
their masts were floating far away; and M'Clise stood at the helm,
keeping her broadside to the sea: his heart was full of bitterness, and
his guilty conscience bore him down, and he looked for death, and he
dreaded it; for was he not a sacrilegious murderer, and was there not an
avenging God above?

Once more Katerina appeared on deck, clinging for support to Andrew.

"I cannot stay below. Tell me, will it soon be over?"

"Yes," replied M'Clise, gloomily; "it will soon be over with all of us."

"How mean you? you told me there was no danger."

"I told you falsely; there is death soon, and damnation afterwards: for
you I have lost my soul!"

"Oh! say not so."

"I say it. Leave me, leave me, woman, or I curse thee."

"Curse me, Andrew? Oh, no! Kiss me, Andrew; and if we are to perish, let
us expire in each other's arms."

"'Tis as well; you have dragged me to perdition. Leave me, I say, for
you have my bitter curse."

Thus was his guilty love turned to hate, now that death was staring him
in the face.

Katerina made no reply. She threw herself on the deck, and abandoned
herself to her feeling of bitter anguish. And as she lay there, and
M'Clise stood at the helm, the wind abated; the vessel was no longer
borne down as before, although the waves were still mountains high. The
seamen on board rallied; some fragments of sail were set on the remnants
of the masts, and there was a chance of safety. M'Clise spoke not, but
watched the helm. The wind shifted in their favour; and hope rose in
every heart. The Frith of Tay was now open, and they were saved! Light
was the heart of M'Clise when he kept away the vessel, and gave the helm
up to the mate. He hastened to Katerina, who still remained on the deck,
raised her up, whispered comfort and returning love; but she heard
not--she could not forget--and she wept bitterly.

"We are saved, dear Katerina!"

"Better that we had been lost!" replied she, mournfully.

"No, no! say not so, with your own Andrew pressing you to his bosom."

"Your bitter curse!"

"'Twas madness