d of 14 deg. N. and 112 deg. E.

"We are about there, I think."

The chief agreed. "That was the locality I had in my mind." He bent
closer over the sheet.

"Nothing in the way tonight, sir," he added.

"Nothing whatever. It is a bit of good luck to meet such weather here.
We can keep as far south as we like until daybreak, and by that
time--How did it look when you came in?"

"A trifle better, I think."

"I have sent for some refreshments. Let us have another
_dekko_[Footnote: Hindustani for "look"--word much used by sailors
in the East.] before we tackle them."

The two officers passed out into the hurricane. Instantly the wind
endeavored to tear the charthouse from off the deck. They looked aloft
and ahead. The officer on duty saw them and nodded silent
comprehension. It was useless to attempt to speak. The weather was
perceptibly clearer.

Then all three peered ahead again. They stood, pressing against the
wind, seeking to penetrate the murkiness in front. Suddenly they were
galvanized into strenuous activity.

A wild howl came from the lookout forward. The eyes of the three men
glared at a huge dismasted Chinese junk, wallowing helplessly in the
trough of the sea, dead under the bows.

The captain sprang to the charthouse and signaled in fierce pantomime
that the wheel should be put hard over.

The officer in charge of the bridge pressed the telegraph lever to
"stop" and "full speed astern," whilst with his disengaged hand he
pulled hard at the siren cord, and a raucous warning sent stewards
flying through the ship to close collision bulkhead doors. The "chief"
darted to the port rail, for the _Sirdar's_ instant response to
the helm seemed to clear her nose from the junk as if by magic.

It all happened so quickly that whilst the hoarse signal was still
vibrating through the ship, the junk swept past her quarter. The chief
officer, joined now by the commander, looked down into the wretched
craft. They could see her crew lashed in a bunch around the capstan on
her elevated poop. She was laden with timber. Although water-logged,
she could not sink if she held together.

A great wave sucked her away from the steamer and then hurled her back
with irresistible force. The _Sirdar_ was just completing her
turning movement, and she heeled over, yielding to the mighty power of
the gale. For an appreciable instant her engines stopped. The mass of
water that swayed the junk like a cork lifted the great ship h