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Updated: May 21, 2025
During the next night the water gained so much on the pumps that Captain Hawkes resolved to head the brig in for the land in the hopes of making some sheltering port. Whereabouts he was he could not exactly tell. Again and again the well was sounded. The night was pitchy dark, the wind blew harder than ever, and the foam-topped seas raged round the hapless brig.
The walls rushed by, dim and misty. In a minute Boy gathered courage to glance back over his shoulder. His heart sank only a yard or two behind them rushed the foam-topped wave. Here and there the sides of the arroyo melted in the flood and toppled downward, yards at a time, sending the yellow water high in air, but making no sound above its roaring.
How different was the appearance of the ocean to that it had presented the previous day! The dark-green foam-topped waves danced up wildly, the sky was of a murky hue, the wind roared and whistled as loudly as before, and the ship, instead of gliding on with calm dignity, tumbled and tossed as if she was a mere cock-boat. Sophie begged to come on deck. I assisted her up.
A blue light was next ordered to be lit. No answering signal was to be perceived. The missing boat was the "Zel" under charge of young Harry Oliver. He was a great favourite on board, and many anxious eyes were looking out for him. Another and another gun was fired, and blue lights ever and anon sent their bright glare over the foam-topped waves.
At first he had been highly pleased with its appearance, but now that he saw the dark leaden foam-topped waves rising up, he began to look as if he would rather have been safe on shore; but he was a stout-hearted fellow, and was not disposed to give way to idle fears. The boat began to pitch and tumble about, and to take the water over her bows.
The masts were gone, carried away a few feet from the deck only the stumps were standing everything had been swept clear away, the caboose, the boats, the bulwark; the brig was a complete wreck; the dark foam-topped seas were rising up high above the deck, threatening to engulf her.
Then, as I looked, I caught a distant hum of voices a far-off sound, such as I have heard amid Pacific isles when wind and waves were beating upon coral crags, and foam-topped rollers thrashed the surf into the magic music of the storm-tossed sea. It was the roar of London's multitudes welcoming home her own; and what a sound it was!
Now the big ship plunged into the trough of the sea with a force which made it seem as if she was never going to rise again; but up the next watery height she climbed, and when she got to the top, she stopped as if to look about her, while the lightning flashed brighter than ever; and then, rolling and pitching, and cutting numerous other antics, she lifted up her stern as if she was going to give a vicious fling out with her heels, and downwards she plunged into the dark obscurity, amid the high foam-topped seas, which hissed and roared high above her bulwarks.
Inspired by his and Harry's example, the men succeeded in getting hold of the boat, and as the next sea lifted her, they hauled her up on a level part of the rock. The launch meantime was tossing about at her anchor; the foam-topped seas now breaking on board her, now lifting her up as if they would send her bodily on shore.
They got down very well to the mouth, but the heavy foam-topped rollers which came tumbling in threatened to prevent them getting into the open sea beyond. "It must be done," exclaimed Rhymer. "To-morrow it may be worse, and we shall have a whole fleet of Arab boats coming down upon us." Twice, however, he pulled up to the inner roller, and backed the boat off again.
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