In Search of the Castaways / A Romantic Narrative of the Loss of Captain Grant of the Brig Britannia and of the Adventures of His Children and Friends in His Discovery and Rescue

"The Duncan! the Duncan!"

"Hurrah! hurrah!" replied Glenarvan's companions, rushing to the shore.

The Duncan was indeed in sight. Five miles distant, the yacht was sailing under low pressure, her main-sails carefully reefed, while her smoke mingled with the mists of the morning. The sea was high, and a vessel of her tonnage could not approach the shore without danger.

Glenarvan, provided with Paganel's telescope, watched the movements of the Duncan. Captain Mangles could not have perceived them, for he did not approach, but continued to coast along with only a reefed top-sail.

At this moment Thalcave, having loaded his carbine heavily, fired it in the direction of the yacht. They gazed and listened. Three times the Indian's gun resounded, waking the echoes of the shore.

At last a white smoke issued from the side of the yacht.

"They see us!" cried Glenarvan. "It is the Duncan's cannon."

A few moments after, a heavy report rang out on the air, and the Duncan, shifting her sail and putting on steam, was seen to be approaching the shore. By the aid of the glass they saw a boat leave the ship's side.

"Lady Helena cannot come," said Tom Austin: "the sea is too rough."

"Nor Captain Mangles," replied MacNabb: "he cannot leave his vessel."

"My sister! my sister!" cried Robert, stretching his arms towards the yacht, which rolled heavily.

"I hope I shall soon get on board!" exclaimed Glenarvan.

"Patience, Edward! You will be there in two hours," replied MacNabb.

Glenarvan now joined Thalcave, who, standing with folded arms alongside of Thaouka, was calmly gazing at the waves.

Glenarvan took his hand, and, pointing to the yacht, said,—

"Come!"

The Indian shook his head.

"Come, my friend!" continued Glenarvan.

"No," replied Thalcave, gently. "Here is Thaouka, and there are the Pampas!" he added, indicating with a sweep of his hand the vast expanse of the plains.

It was clear that the Indian would never leave the prairies, where the bones of his fathers whitened. Glenarvan knew the strong attachment of these children of the desert to their native country. He therefore shook Thalcave's hand, and did not insist; not even when the Indian, smiling in his peculiar way, refused the price of his services, saying,—

"It was done out of friendship."

His lordship, however, desired to give the brave Indian something which might at least serve as a souvenir of his European friends. But what had he left? His arms, his horses, everything had been lost in the inundation. His friends were no richer than himself. For some moments he was at a loss how to repay the disinterested generosity of the brave guide; but at last a happy idea occurred to him. He drew from his pocket-book a costly medallion inclosing an admirable portrait, one of Lawrence's master-pieces, and presented it to Thalcave.

"My wife," said Glenarvan.

Thalcave gazed with wonder at the portrait, and pronounced these simple words,—

"Good and beautiful!"

Then Robert, Paganel, the major, Tom Austin, and the two sailors bade an affectionate adieu to the noble Patagonian, who clasped each one in succession to his broad breast. All were sincerely sorry at parting with so courageous and devoted a friend. Paganel forced him to accept a map of South America and the two oceans, which the Indian had frequently examined with interest. It was the geographer's most precious possession. As for Robert, he had nothing to give but caresses, which he freely lavished upon his deliverer and upon Thaouka.

At that instant the Duncan's boat approached, and, gliding into the narrow channel between the sand-banks, grounded on the beach.

"My wife?" asked Glenarvan.

"My sister?" cried Robert.

"Lady Helena and Miss Grant await you on board," replied the cockswain. "But we have not a moment to lose, my lord, for the tide is beginning to ebb."

The last acknowledgments were given, and Thalcave accompanied his friends to the boat. Just as Robert was about to embark, the Indian took him in his arms and gazed at him tenderly.

"Now go," said he; "you are a man!"

"Adieu, my friend, adieu!" cried Glenarvan.

"Shall we ever see each other again?" asked Paganel.

"Who knows?" replied Thalcave, raising his arms towards heaven.

They pushed off, and the boat was rapidly borne from the shore by the ebbing tide. For a long time the motionless outline of the Indian was seen through the foam of the waves. Then his tall form grew indistinct, and soon became invisible. An hour afterwards they reached the Duncan. Robert was the first to spring upon the deck, where he threw himself upon his sister's neck, while the crew of the yacht filled the air with their joyous shouts.

Thus had our travelers accomplished the journey across South America on a rigorously straight line. Neither mountains nor rivers had turned them aside from their course; and, although they were not forced to struggle against the evil designs of men, the relentless fury of the elements had often tested their generous intrepidity to its utmost powers of endurance.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A NEW DESTINATION.

The first moments were consecrated to the happiness of meeting. Lord Glenarvan did not wish the joy in the hearts of his friends to be chilled by tidings of their want of success. His first words, therefore, were,—

"Courage, my friends, courage! Captain Grant is not with us, but we are sure to find him."

It needed only such an assurance to restore hope to the passengers of the Duncan. Lady Helena and Mary Grant, while the boat was approaching the ship, had experienced all the anguish of suspense. From the deck they endeavored to count those who were returning. At one time the young girl would despair; at another she would think she saw her father. Her heart beat quickly; she could not speak; she could scarcely stand. Lady Helena supported her, while Captain Mangles stood beside her in silence. His keen eyes, accustomed to distinguish distant objects, could not discern the captain.

"He is there! he is coming! my father!" murmured the young girl.

But as the boat gradually drew near, the illusion vanished. Not only Lady Helena and the captain, but Mary Grant, had now lost all hope. It was, therefore, time for Glenarvan to utter his assuring words.

After the first embraces, all were informed of the principal incidents of the journey; and, first of all, Glenarvan made known the new interpretation of the document, due to the sagacity of Jacques Paganel. He also praised Robert, of whom his sister had a right to be proud. His courage, his devotion, and the dangers that he had overcome, were conspicuously set forth by his noble friend, so that the boy would not have known where to hide himself, if his sister's arms had not afforded him a sure refuge.

"You need not blush, Robert," said Captain Mangles; "you have behaved like the worthy son of Captain Grant."

He stretched out his arms towards Mary's brother, and pressed his lips to the boy's cheeks, which were still wet with tears.

They then spoke of the generous Thalcave. Lady Helena regretted that she could not have shaken hands with the brave Indian. MacNabb, after the first outbursts of enthusiasm, repaired to his cabin to shave himself. As for Paganel, he flitted hither and thither, like a bee, extracting the honey of compliments and smiles. He wished to embrace all on board the Duncan, and, beginning with Lady Helena and Mary Grant, ended with Mr. Olbinett, the steward, who could not better recognize such politeness than by announcing breakfast.

"Breakfast!" cried Paganel.

"Yes, Mr. Paganel," replied Olbinett.

"A real breakfast, on a real table, with table-cloth and napkins?"

"Certainly."

"And shall we not eat hard eggs, or ostrich steaks?"

"Oh, Mr. Paganel!" replied the worthy steward, greatly embarrassed.

"I did not mean to offend you, my friend," said the geographer; "but for a month our food has been of that sort, and we have dined, not at a table, but stretched on the ground, except when we were astride of the trees. This breakfast that you have just announced seemed to me, therefore, like a dream, a fiction, a chimera."

"Well, we will test its reality, Monsieur Paganel," replied Lady Helena, who could not help laughing.

"Accept my arm," said the gallant geographer.

"Has your lordship any orders to give?" inquired Captain Mangles.

"After breakfast, my dear fellow," replied Glenarvan, "we will discuss in council the programme of the new expedition."

The passengers and the young captain then descended to the cabin. Orders were given to the engineer to keep up steam, that they might start at the first signal. The major and the travelers, after a rapid toilette, seated themselves at the table. Ample justice was done to Mr. Olbinett's repast, which was declared excellent and even superior to the splendid banquets of the Pampas. Paganel called twice for every dish, "through absent-mindedness," as he said. This unfortunate word led Lady Helena to inquire if the amiable Frenchman had occasionally shown his habitual failing. The major and Lord Glenarvan looked at each other with a smile. As for Paganel, he laughed heartily, and promised "upon his honor" not to commit a single blunder during the entire voyage. He then in a very comical way told the story of his mistake in the study of Spanish.

"After all," he added, in conclusion, "misfortunes are sometimes beneficial, and I do not regret my error."

"And why, my worthy friend?" asked the major.

"Because I not only know Spanish, but Portuguese also. I speak two languages instead of one."

"By my faith, I should not have thought of that," replied MacNabb. "My compliments, Paganel, my sincere compliments!"

Paganel was applauded, but did not lose a single mouthful. He did not, however, notice one peculiarity observed by Glenarvan, and that was the young captain's attentions to his neighbor, Mary Grant. A slight sign from Lady Helena to her husband told him how matters stood. He gazed at the two young people with affectionate sympathy, and finally addressed the captain, but upon a different subject.

"How did you succeed with your voyage, captain?" he inquired.

"Excellently," replied the captain; "only I must inform your lordship that we did not return by way of the Strait of Magellan."

"What!" cried Paganel, "you doubled Cape Horn, and I was not there!"

"Hang yourself!" said the major.

"Selfish fellow! you give me this advice in order that you may share my rope!" retorted the geographer.

"Well, my dear Paganel," added Glenarvan, "unless we are endowed with ubiquity, we cannot be everywhere. Since you crossed the Pampas, you could not at the same time double Cape Horn."

"Nevertheless, I am sorry," replied the geographer.

Captain Mangles now told the story of his voyage, and was congratulated by Glenarvan, who, addressing Mary Grant, said,—

"My dear young lady, I see that Captain John pays his homage to your noble qualities, and I am happy to find that you are not displeased with his ship."

"Oh, how could I be?" replied Mary, gazing at Lady Helena, and perhaps also at the young captain.

"My sister loves you, Mr. Captain," cried Robert, "and I do too."

"And I return your love, my dear boy," replied Captain Mangles, a little confused by Robert's words, which also brought a slight blush to the face of the young girl.

Then, changing the conversation to a less embarrassing subject, the captain added,—

"Since I have related the Duncan's voyage, will not your lordship give us a few particulars of your travels, and the exploits of our young hero?"

No recital could have been more agreeable to Lady Helena and Miss Grant, and Glenarvan hastened to satisfy their curiosity. He told, word for word, all about their journey from ocean to ocean. The passage of the Andes, the earthquake, Robert's disappearance, his capture by the condor, Thalcave's fortunate shot, the adventure with the wolves, the boy's devotion, the meeting with Sergeant Manuel, the inundation, their refuge in the tree, the lightning, the fire, the alligators, the water-spout, the night on the shores of the Atlantic, all these incidents, cheerful or serious, excited alternately the joy and terror of his hearers. Many a circumstance was related that brought Robert the caresses of his sister and Lady Helena. Never was boy more highly praised, or by more enthusiastic friends.

"Now, my friends," remarked Lord Glenarvan, when he had finished his recital, "let us think of the present. Let us return to the subject of Captain Grant."

When breakfast was over, the party repaired to Lady Helena's state-room, and, taking seats around a table loaded with maps and charts, resumed the conversation. Glenarvan explained that the shipwreck had not taken place on the shores either of the Pacific or the Atlantic, and that, consequently, the document had been wrongly interpreted so far as Patagonia was concerned; that Paganel, by a sudden inspiration, had discovered the mistake and proved that they had been following a false trail. The geographer was accordingly asked to explain the French document, which he did to the satisfaction of every one. When he had finished his demonstration, Glenarvan announced that the Duncan would immediately set sail for Australia.

The major, however, before the order was given, asked permission to make a single remark.

"Speak, major," said Glenarvan.

"My object," said MacNabb, "is not to invalidate the arguments of my friend Paganel, still less to refute them. I consider them rational, sagacious, and worthy of our whole attention. But I desire to submit them to a final examination, that their validity may be incontestable."

No one knew what the prudent MacNabb meant, and his hearers listened with some anxiety.

"Go on, major," said Paganel: "I am ready to answer all your questions."

"Nothing can be simpler," said the major. "Five months ago, in the Frith of Clyde, when we studied the three documents, their interpretation seemed clear to us. No place but the western coast of Patagonia could, we thought, have been the scene of the shipwreck. We had not even the shadow of a doubt on the subject."

"Very true," added Glenarvan.

"Afterwards," resumed the major, "when Paganel, in a moment of providential absent-mindedness, embarked on board our vessel, the documents were submitted to him, and he unhesitatingly sanctioned our search upon the American coast."

"You are right," observed the geographer.

"And, nevertheless, we are mistaken," said the major.

"Yes, we are mistaken," repeated Paganel; "but to be mistaken is only to be human, while it is the part of a madman to persist in his error."

"Wait, Paganel," continued the major; "do not get excited. I do not mean that our search ought to be prolonged in America."

"What do you ask, then?" inquired Glenarvan.

"Simply the acknowledgment that Australia now seems to be the scene of the Britannia's shipwreck as much as South America did before."

"Granted," replied Paganel.

"Who knows, then," resumed the major, "whether, after Australia, another country may not offer us the same probabilities, and whether, when this new search proves vain, it may not seem evident that we ought to have searched elsewhere?"

Glenarvan and Paganel glanced at each other. The major's remarks were strictly correct.

"I desire, therefore," added MacNabb, "that a final test be made before we start for Australia. Here are the documents and maps. Let us examine successively all points that the thirty-seventh parallel crosses, and see if there is not some other country to which the document has as precise a reference."

"Nothing is easier," replied Paganel.

The map was placed before Lady Helena, and all showed themselves ready to follow Paganel's demonstration. After carefully examining the documents, it was unanimously agreed that Paganel's interpretation was the correct one.

"I leave you, therefore, my friends," said he, in conclusion, "to decide whether all the probabilities are not in favor of the Australian continent."

"Evidently," replied the passengers and the captain with unanimity.

"Captain," said Glenarvan, "have you sufficient provisions and coal?"

"Yes, my lord, I procured ample supplies at Talcahuana, and, besides, we can lay in a fresh stock of fuel at Cape Town."

"One more remark," said the major.

"A thousand, if you please!"

"Whatever may be the guarantees for success in Australia, will it not be well to call for a day or two, in passing, at the islets of Tristan d'Acunha and Amsterdam? They are situated so near our strict line of search, that it is worth our while to ascertain if there be on them any trace of the shipwreck of the Britannia."

"The unbeliever!" said Paganel.

"I do not want to have to return to them, monsieur, if Australia does not after all realize our newly-conceived expectations."

"The precaution is not a bad one," said Glenarvan.

"And I do not wish to dissuade you; quite the contrary," replied the geographer.

"Well, then, we will adopt it, and start forthwith," said Lord Glenarvan.

"Immediately, my lord," replied the captain, as he went on deck, while Robert and Mary Grant uttered the liveliest expressions of gratitude; and the Duncan, leaving the American coast and heading to the east, was soon swiftly ploughing the waves of the Atlantic.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

TRISTAN D'ACUNHA AND THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM.

The Duncan now had before her a broad stretch of ocean but little traversed by navigators. Between the shores of South America and the little speck in the ocean known by the name of Tristan d'Acunha, there was no probability of her meeting with any strange sail; and under some circumstances, or in some company, the days might have been monotonous and the hours might have hung wearily. But so ardent was the desire for success, and so accomplished, yet varied, were the characters of those who composed the little assembly, that the voyage on the South Atlantic, though devoid of striking incident, was by no means wanting in interest. Much of the time was spent on deck, where the ladies' cabins were now located, Mary Grant especially training her hand, head, and heart in feeling, thought, and action. The geographer set to work on a composition entitled "Travels of a Geographer on the Argentine Pampas;" but many a blank page did he leave. Tho Scottish peer (when tired of examining for the thousandth time all that belonged to his yacht) could look at the books and documents which he had brought with him, intending to peruse them carefully. And as to the major he was never in company and never out of company; his cigar insured, nothing else was wanted.

Ever and anon many miles of the ocean would be covered by masses of sea-weed; these different species of algæ would afford subject for research; specimens must be preserved, authorities must be consulted, and as one result at least all would become wiser. Then a discussion would ensue on some geographical problem, and maps that were not attainable were of course appealed to by each disputant, though the subject in question was often of very trivial moment. It was in the midst of a debate of this kind, during the evening, that a sailor cried out,—

"Land ahead!"

"In what direction?" asked Paganel.

"To windward," replied the sailor.

The landsmen's eyes were strained, but to no purpose. The geographer's telescope was brought into requisition, but with no avail. "I do not see the land," said its owner.

"Look into the clouds," said the captain.

"Ah!" replied Paganel, struck with the idea, and shortly with the reality also; for there was the barren mountain-top of Tristan d'Acunha.

"Then," said he, "if I remember aright, we are eighty miles from it. Is not that the distance from which this mountain is visible?"

"Exactly so," replied the captain.

A few hours brought them much nearer to the group of high and steep rocks, and at sunrise they saw the conical peak of Tristan, seemingly separated from all the rest of the rocky group, and reflecting the glory of the blue heavens and of the rising orb on the placid sea at its base.

There are three islets in this group,—Tristan d'Acunha, Inaccessible, and Rossignol; but it was only at the first of these that the Duncan called. Inquiry was made of the authorities (for these islets are governed by a British official from the Cape of Good Hope) if there were any tidings of the Britannia. But nothing was known of such a ship; they were told of the shipwrecks which had occurred, but there was nothing that afforded a clue to that which they sought. They spent some hours in examination of the fauna and flora, which were not very extensive. They saw and were seen by the sparse population that subsist here, and in the afternoon of the same day the yacht left the islands and islanders so rarely visited.

Whilst the passengers had been thus engaged, Lord Glenarvan had allowed his crew to employ their time advantageously to themselves in capturing some of the seals which are so plentiful in these latitudes. A few hours of their united toil resulted in the death of a large number of seals who were "caught napping," and in the stowing away, for the profit of the crew when they should reach the Australian market, several barrels of the oil obtained from their carcases.

Still onward on the same parallel lay the course of the Duncan, towards the Isles of Amsterdam and St. Paul; and the same subjects of conversation, study, and speculation engaged them all, until, one morning, they espied the first mentioned island, far ahead; and as they drew nearer, a peak rose clearly before their vision which strongly reminded them of the Peak of Teneriffe they had beheld a few months before.

The Isle of Amsterdam or St. Peter, and the Isle of St. Paul, have been visited by very few, and but little is known of them. The latter is uninhabited; but our friends found a few voluntary exiles on the former island, who, by means of seal-fishing, eke out a scanty existence in this out-of-the-way spot. Here again inquiry was made, but in vain, for any information of the Britannia, her voyage, or her shipwreck. Neither on the Isle of Amsterdam nor on that of St. Paul, which the whalers and seal-fishers sometimes visit, had there been any trace of the catastrophe.

Desolate as these lonely islands appeared to our travelers, they still were not devoid of objects of interest. They were meagre enough in vegetation and in animal life; but there were warm springs which well repaid a visit. Captain Mangles found the temperature of their waters to be 166° Fahrenheit; and, inasmuch as this was sufficient to cook fish, Paganel decided that it was not necessary for him to bathe here "geographically."

When they resumed their course, though many miles were before them, there was a growing sense of anticipation; they were not to pause again until the "Australian continent" was reached; and more and more did the conversation and discussions tend towards this continent as their subject. On one occasion so certain was Paganel as to the ease with which they would be able to pursue their search, when they arrived, that he asserted that more than fifty geographers had already made the course clear for them.

"What! fifty, do you say?" asked the major, with an air of doubt.

"Yes, MacNabb, decidedly," said the geographer, piqued at the hesitancy to believe him.

"Impossible!" replied the major.

"Not at all; and if you doubt my veracity, I will cite their names."

"Ah!" said the major, quietly, "you clever people stick at nothing."

"Major," said Paganel, "will you wager your rifle against my telescope that I cannot name at least fifty Australian explorers?"

"Of course, Paganel, if you like," replied MacNabb, seeing that he could not now recede from his position without incurring the ridicule of the company.

"Well, then," said Paganel to Lady Helena and Miss Grant, "come and be umpires, and Master Robert shall count for us." And forthwith the learned geographer opened his budget, and poured forth the history of the discovery of Australia, with the names of its discoverers and the dates of their explorations, as fluently as though his sole calling in life was to be professor of Australian history. Rapidly he mentioned the first twenty who found or traversed the Austral shores; as rapidly did the names of the second score flow from his lips; and after the prescribed fifty had been enumerated, he kept on as though his list were inexhaustible.

"Enough, enough, Monsieur Paganel!" said Lady Helena. "You have shown that there is nothing, great or small, about Australia, of which you are ignorant."

"Nay, madam," said the geographer, with a bow.

Then, with a peculiar expression, he smiled as he said to the major, "We will talk about the rifle at another time."

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE STORM ON THE INDIAN OCEAN.

Two days after this conversation, Captain Mangles took an observation, and the passengers saw, to their great satisfaction, upon consulting the map, that they were in the vicinity of Cape Bernouilli, which they might expect to reach in four days. The west wind had hitherto favored the progress of the yacht, but for several days it had shown a tendency to fail, and now there was a perfect calm. The sails flapped idly against the masts, and had it not been for her powerful screw, the Duncan would have been becalmed on the ocean.

This state of things might be prolonged indefinitely. At evening Glenarvan consulted the captain on the subject. The latter, whose supply of coal was rapidly diminishing, appeared much disturbed at the subsidence of the wind. He had covered his ship with canvas, and set his studding- and main-sails, that he might take advantage of the least breeze; but, in nautical language, there was not enough wind "to fill a hat."

"At all events," said Glenarvan, "we need not complain. It is better to be without wind than to have a contrary one."

"Your lordship is right," replied Captain Mangles; "but I dread some sudden change in the weather. We are now in the neighborhood of the trade-winds, which, from October to April, blow from the northeast, and our progress will, therefore, be very much retarded."

"But what can we do, captain? If this misfortune occurs, we must submit to it. It will only be a delay, after all."

"Probably, if a storm does not come upon us too."

"Do you fear bad weather?" asked Glenarvan, looking at the sky, which, however, was cloudless.

"Yes," replied the captain. "I tell your lordship, but would conceal my apprehensions from Lady Helena and Miss Grant."

"You act wisely. What do you apprehend?"

"There are signs of a great storm. Do not trust the appearance of the sky, my lord; nothing is more deceptive. For two days the barometer has fallen to an alarming degree. This is a warning that I cannot disregard. I particularly fear the storms of the South Seas, for I have been already exposed to them."

"John," replied Glenarvan, "the Duncan is a stout vessel, and her captain a skillful seaman. Let the storm come; we will take care of ourselves."

Captain Mangles, while giving expression to his fears, was by no means forgetful of his duty as a sailor. The steady fall of the barometer caused him to take every measure of precaution. The sky, as yet, gave no indication of the approaching tempest; but the warnings of his infallible instrument were not to be disregarded.

The young captain accordingly remained on deck all night. About eleven o'clock the sky grew threatening towards the south. All hands were immediately called on deck, to take in the sails. At midnight the wind freshened. The creaking of the masts, the rattling of the rigging, and the groaning of bulkheads informed the passengers of the state of affairs. Paganel, Glenarvan, the major, and Robert came on deck to render assistance if it should be needed. Over the sky, that they had left clear and studded with stars, now rolled thick clouds broken by light bands and spotted like the skin of a leopard.

"Has the storm broken upon us?" asked Glenarvan.

"Not yet, but it will presently," replied the captain.

At that moment he gave the order to reef the top-sail. The sailors sprang into the windward rattlings, and with difficulty accomplished their task. Captain Mangles wished to keep on as much sail as possible, to support the yacht and moderate her rolling. After these precautions had been taken, he told the mate and the boatswain to prepare for the assault of the tempest, which could not be long in breaking forth. Still, like an officer at the storming of a breach, he did not leave the point of observation, but from the upper deck endeavored to draw from the stormy sky its secrets.

It was now one o'clock in the morning. Lady Helena and Miss Grant, aroused by the unusual bustle, ventured to come on deck. The wind was sharply whistling through the cordage, which, like the strings of a musical instrument, resounded as if some mighty bow had caused their rapid vibrations; the pulleys clashed against each other; the ropes creaked with a sharp sound in their rough sockets; the sails cracked like cannon, and vast waves rolled up to assail the yacht, as it lightly danced on their foaming crests.

When the captain perceived the ladies, he approached and besought them to return to the cabin. Several waves had already been shipped, and the deck might be swept at any moment. The din of the elements was now so piercing that Lady Helena could scarcely hear the young captain.

"Is there any danger?" she managed to ask him during a momentary lull in the storm.

"No, madam," replied he; "but neither you nor Miss Mary can remain on deck."

The ladies did not oppose an order that seemed more like an entreaty, and returned to the cabin just as a wave, rolling over the stern, shook the compass-lights in their sockets. The violence of the wind redoubled; the masts bent under the pressure of sail, and the yacht seemed to rise on the billows.

"Brail up the main-sail!" cried the captain; "haul in the top-sails and jibs!"

The sailors sprang to their places; the halyards were loosened, the brails drawn down, the jibs taken in with a noise that rose above the storm, and the Duncan, whose smoke-stack belched forth torrents of black smoke, rolled heavily in the sea.

Glenarvan, the major, Paganel, and Robert gazed with admiration and terror at this struggle with the waves. They clung tightly to the rigging, unable to exchange a word, and watched the flocks of stormy petrels, those melancholy birds of the storm, as they sported in the raging winds.

At that moment a piercing sound was heard above the roar of the hurricane. The steam was rapidly escaping, not through the escape-valve, but through the pipes of the boiler. The alarm-whistle sounded with unusual shrillness; the yacht gave a terrible lurch, and Wilson, who was at the helm, was overthrown by an unexpected blow of the wheel. The vessel was in the trough of the sea, and no longer manageable.

"What is the matter?" cried Captain Mangles, rushing to the stern.

"The ship is careening!" replied Austin.

"Is the rudder unhinged?"

"To the engine! to the engine!" cried the engineer.

The captain rushed down the ladder. A cloud of steam filled the engine-room; the pistons were motionless in their cylinders, and the cranks gave no movement to the shaft. The engineer, seeing that all efforts were useless, and fearing for his boilers, had let out the steam through the escape-valve.

"What has happened?" asked the captain.

"The screw is either bent or entangled," replied the engineer; "it will not work."

"Is it impossible to free it?"

"Impossible, at present."

To attempt to repair the accident at that moment was out of the question. The screw would not move, and the steam, being no longer effective, had escaped through the valves. The captain was, therefore, forced to rely on his sails, and seek the aid of the wind, which had been hitherto his most dangerous enemy.

He came on deck, and, briefly informing Glenarvan of the situation, begged him to return to the cabin with the others; but the latter wished to remain.

"No, my lord," replied Captain Mangles, in a firm tone: "I must be alone here with my crew. Go! The ship may be in danger, and the waves would drench you unmercifully."

"But we may be of use——"

"Go, go, my lord; you must! There are times when I am master on board. Retire, as I wish!"

For John Mangles to express himself so authoritatively, the situation must have been critical. Glenarvan understood that it was his duty to obey. He therefore left the deck, followed by his three companions, and joined the ladies in the cabin, who were anxiously awaiting the result of this struggle with the elements.

"My brave John is an energetic man," remarked Glenarvan as he entered.

Meantime Captain Mangles lost no time in extricating the ship from her perilous situation. He resolved to keep towards the Cape, that he might deviate as little as possible from his prescribed course. It was, therefore, necessary to brace the sails obliquely to the wind. The top-sail was reefed, a kind of fore-sail rigged on the main-stay, and the helm crowded hard aport. The yacht, which was a stanch and fleet vessel, started like a spirited horse that feels the spur, and proudly breasted the angry billows.

The rest of the night was passed in this situation. They hoped that the tempest would abate by break of day. Vain hope! At eight o'clock in the morning it was still blowing hard, and the wind soon became a hurricane.

The captain said nothing, but he trembled for his vessel and those whom she carried. The Duncan now and then gave a fearful lurch; her stanchions cracked, and sometimes the yards of the mainmast struck the crests of the waves. At one moment the crew thought the yacht would not rise again. Already the sailors, hatchet in hand, were rushing to cut away the fore-shrouds, when they were violently torn from their fastenings by the blast. The ship righted herself, but, without support on the waves, she was tossed about so terribly that the masts threatened to break at their very foundations. She could not long endure such rolling; she was growing weak, and soon her shattered sides and opening seams must give way for the water.