"It is done, sir!" reported the officer, a few moments afterward.

"Very well! Secure the guns with single lashings only, and have the decks clear for action!" was the next order.

"Action, captain?" exclaimed the earl, who had witnessed these preparations with interest.

"It is best to be prepared, if that dark cloud rolling towards us should chance to conceal a foe in its bosom. A dark cloud, as well as a dark eye, sometimes hides dangers, my lord."

"You may be doing right, Kenard, but Heaven defend us from other dangers than the elements threaten us with."

These several orders were executed; and the yacht lay rocking, with scarcely any progressive motion, on the sluggish surges, which all at once began to heave and swell, as if lifted by some vast and mysterious power beneath. She was nearly divested of her canva.s.s, yet still beautiful in her nakedness, showing to advantage the graceful symmetry of her tapering spars, and the exquisite shape and proportions of her hull. Like a bird seated on the water, she yielded to every undulation of the heaving billows with a grace that seemed the instinct of life.

The stillness that now reigned was profound and awful.

"List, my lord," said the captain, after the lapse of a few moments, during which all eyes were turned to watch the storm-cloud walking the skies in its power, and flinging its broad shadow on the sea.

The earl bent his ear more acutely, and heard a deep moaning sound, like winds howling in caverns under-sea. Gradually it grew louder, and at the same time the dark cloud cast itself across the skies towards the zenith, its edges streaming in advance, like hair blown out by the wind.

In a few seconds the moon was darkened, the stars became suddenly extinguished, and an impenetrable gloom fell like a pall over the deep.

Not a breath yet moved the air. But deeper and more awful grew the moan of the storm as it swept down the sea. Louder and louder it came, and now was distinctly heard the roar of agitated waves, tossed by the shrieking winds; and between the sky and sea, which seemed to meet within reach of the hand, glared a line of white foam, seeming, to their imaginations, the glittering and gnashing teeth of the mad tempest. The earl hid his head within his cloak, and uttered a prayer for the safety of the souls on board; the captain stood upon a gun, with his eyes upon the coming storm, professionally cool and collected.

"Two steady men go to the aid of the helmsman," he said, in a calm, low voice. "She will bear nothing, Howel; we must make an Eolian harp of her. So! stand by the topsail halyards."

"All ready, sir," replied the lieutenant, in the same subdued tone.

"Let go all!"

The topsails came down by the run, and in a moment's time were furled by the active seamen.

"Let go the jib and spanker," he now shouted, in an energetic tone.

"All gone, sir!"

The yacht was now under bare poles, and left to the mercy of the hurricane. The roar of the coming tempest was now deafening, and the vessel began to pitch wildly, yet there was no sensible agitation of the air.

"Every man throw himself on his face to the deck!" cried the captain, suddenly, in a loud tone. "My lord, you will be safer below. Our decks will be swept clean as your hand."

"I will remain, Kenard."

"And I will remain with you, uncle," said Grace, suddenly appearing before them like a spirit, in her snowy night-robe, which seemed like a garment of pale light in the surrounding blackness and gloom; "I will share the danger by your side," she added, with decision.

There was no time to refuse her entreaty or conduct her to the cabin--the tempest burst upon them, as if a cloud, swelling with wind and rain, had broken over the vessel. Instantly all who were on their feet were prostrated. Howling and shrieking through the rigging, accompanied by a crashing and splintering that appalled every soul on board with the present sense of danger, it swept over them with terrific fury. Borne down by its weight, the vessel careened till she lay almost on her beam's end, while the mad surges leaped over her bulwarks and deluged the nearly perpendicular decks. The darkness became illumined by a wild, strange light from the foaming sea, and every object was distinctly seen by its supernatural glare. The captain got upon his feet, and, climbing to windward, lashed himself to the main rigging, and gave such orders as the crisis demanded. But his voice could not be heard, and his presence and example were alike useless at a moment like this. The vessel was driving in the van of the tempest with inconceivable velocity. The waves seemed to lift her hull, and hurl her onward like a feather. The brave seaman beheld many of his crew swept off, and saw them, without the power to help them, struggling amid the boiling sea; but their shrieks were lost in the louder shrieks of the wind, and the flying vessel soon left them far astern. Others were lashing themselves to the rigging; others clinging to the guns; and all were exerting themselves to preserve their lives. Casting his eyes aloft, he saw, with a pang of grief, that his main-topgallant-mast was gone, and that his fore-topmast was wounded and tottering fearfully at every pitch of the vessel. The first fury of the tempest was spent, and there being a momentary lull, it occurred to him that it might yet be saved.

"Ho, there, forward!" he shouted.

His words seemed to have an electrical effect upon the crew, as if the sound of a cheerful human voice, in that fearful moment, inspired them with hope. Half the danger was lessened to their minds, and twenty voices replied,

"Ay, ay."

At the instant, there came a second blast of the tempest, and a huge sea breaking over the vessel, swept the captain into the waste, and bore three more of the men into the sea, who the next moment were lost in the darkness astern. The first glance of the captain, on recovering his feet and sustaining himself by clasping round a gun, was to the fore-topmast.

"She yet stands it!" he exclaimed, "but another such a blast will pitch it end foremost through our decks. Ho, my lads, which of you will take a couple of fathoms from the topgallant-halyards and go aloft and fish that stick?"

Many an eye was turned upward, but not a foot moved.

"A light lad will do it best. The spar must be saved where it is; for, if it falls inboard, 'twill make a hole through our decks big enough to let the ocean in. Be quick, lads!"

"I will do it, sir," said a young sailor, springing into the weather rigging, with a coil of rigging on his arm.

"That's my lad. You shall wear an epaulet for this."

With the eyes of the whole crew upon him, the intrepid young seaman ascended the rigging, though with much difficulty, as the wind pressed him so closely against the stays that he could scarcely climb from one rattling to another. After great peril he gained the top. Here, breaking from its latticed guard a couple of oaken slats, he swung himself into the topmast rigging, and, ascending to where the stick was splintered, commenced with great coolness, while the storm howled terrifically about him, to wind the rope about both it and the pieces of wood he had torn from the top. At every pitch of the vessel the wounded spar would gape wide, and threaten to carry him with it into the sea. But to the eyes of those below, who could plainly see him by the white light shed from the phosph.o.r.escent waves, he appeared to be as cool as if engaged in an ordinary duty on an ordinary occasion. After taking numerous turns about the mast till his rope was exhausted, he skilfully fastened the ends, and then, by a stay, descended like an arrow to the deck.

"What lad is that?" asked the captain, who had silently watched his labour.

"The fisher's lad," replied one.

"Gallantly done, my lad," said the captain. "This night has made thy fortune for thee, young man."

"I believe there is a vessel in sight, sir."

"What is that you say? Come aft, for this wind will let n.o.body hear anything but its own howl."

"I discovered aloft what appeared to be a vessel to windward, scudding under bare poles," repeated Mark.

"Ha, say you? Then we are like to have company in the gale."

As he attempted to ascend to the weatherside to look for the stranger, a fresh gust of the tornado burst upon the vessel and threw her upon her beam's end, the sea breaking over her bulwarks from stem to stern with the force and volume of a cataract.

"My niece, my niece!" cried the Earl of Bellamont, suddenly; "save her--oh, G.o.d! she is lost!"

The first shock of the tempest had thrown the n.o.bleman and Grace to the deck; but he had contrived to shelter her in his cloak, under the lee of the companion-way, during its continuance, and, save the apprehension attendant on the danger she was in, she had suffered comparatively little. Her attention had been drawn, in the mean while, to the bold enterprise of the young sailor. She would have shrieked as he volunteered, but her voice failed her. She had watched his ascent and the progress of his perilous duty with trembling and with prayer; and, when he descended to the deck, she released her hold upon her uncle, and clasped her hands together in grat.i.tude for his preservation. It was at this moment the vessel was thrown upon her beam's end, when, caught up by a wave, she was borne far from the reach of the earl, whose cries now drew all eyes towards him.

"My niece! Grace! Where is she?" he cried, in tones of despair.

"Here, uncle!" she faintly answered from the sea.

Guided by her voice, they discerned her at some distance from the vessel, her body immersed in the water, clinging by one hand to a stay which lay level with it. Every heave of the sea lifted her nearly out of the water to let her descend again far beneath its surface. Yet she held firmly to the stay with that tenacity which is taught by the love of life.

The earl no sooner beheld her than he was about to jump overboard to her rescue, when Mark, with a rope fastened around his waist, run along the level bulwarks and arrested him before he could take the leap.

"Stay, my lord! Hold firmly by the end of this rope, and I will save her or perish in the attempt."

As he spoke he cast himself into the sea; and partly by swimming and partly by the aid of the stay, he had nearly reached her, when a wave lifted her high on its crest, and forced her to release her grasp.

"Save me, Mark!" she cried, and sunk in the hollow it left, and almost within reach of his arm.

He dove, and brought her to the surface scarce ere she had gone beneath it. She instantly clasped her arms firmly around him with the instinct of self-preservation; her cheek lying against his, and her rich tresses blinding him.

"She is safe; draw us inboard," he shouted, buffeting the waves with one arm, the other encircling her with a firm grasp.