as well as I expected,
and we never before have had an opportunity of testing her as we are now
doing."

"I suspect that it is the current carrying her to leeward," observed
Archie. "Possibly the wind may increase before daylight, and we shall
then be better able to claw off the land."

All night long the captain, endeavouring to take advantage of every
change of wind, frequently put the ship about, anxiously wishing for
daylight, to be able to judge better than he could during the darkness
of her distance from the land. The lead kept going showed no increase
of depth, which ranged from thirty-five to forty fathoms. As morning
approached, the water shallowed, showing that she was nearer than she
had been when night closed in.

"By the deep, twenty," sang out the man in the chains. A short time
afterwards, "fifteen fathom," then "twelve." Just at daylight she was
in ten fathoms of water. As the sun rose, the marks denoting the
entrance to Waterloo Bay were seen under the lee. The bay afforded no
shelter with the wind blowing, as it then did, directly into it. Jack
hoisted the signals, "Can the troops land?" The answer run up on shore
was, "Not until the weather moderates."

In a short time a pilot came off in a surf-boat, and the ship was
brought up in nine fathoms, about a mile and a half from the shore. A
spring was also got on the cable, in case of requiring to slip, and a
bow-rope for a slip-rope, while the spare anchor was shifted to the
cathead, in lieu of the one carried away, that everything might be ready
in case of necessity.

The pilot, on discovering that the machinery had given way, looked
grave. He had been accustomed to sailing vessels all his life, and had
no love for steamers.

"I hope your engineers will look sharp and get their work done," he
observed to the master. "This is a queer place when the wind is as it
is, though well enough when it's off shore."

After breakfast, the major and his family came on deck. Angelica,
looking about her, inquired why they could not land.

"Because the boats would be upset and rolled over and over in these
breakers, and you, my sweet girl, would be gobbled up by a shark!"
answered Billy, to whom the question was put. "They would choose you
first. I'm sure, if I was a shark, I shouldn't like to eat your papa or
mamma!"

"Oh, what a dreadful idea!" exclaimed Angelica; yet she smiled at what
she considered Billy's compliment.

Billy, who had