Captain Mangles seldom left him, but at his side endured the severity of the storm. That day, Glenarvan, wherever there was an opening in the mist, scanned the horizon with the utmost persistency. The young captain approached him.
“Is your lordship looking for land?” he asked.
Glenarvan shook his head.
“It will yet be some time before we leave the brig. We ought to have sighted Auckland light thirty-six hours ago.”
Glenarvan did not answer. He still gazed, and for a moment his glass was pointed towards the horizon to windward of the vessel.
“The land is not on that side,” said Captain Mangles. “Your lordship should look towards the starboard.”
“Why, John?” replied Glenarvan. “It is not the land that I am seeking.”
“What is it, my lord?”
“My yacht, my Duncan! She must be here, in these regions, plowing these seas, in that dreadful employment of a pirate. She is here, I tell you, John, on this course between Australia and New Zealand! I have a presentiment that we shall meet her!”
“God preserve us from such a meeting, my lord!”
“Why, John?”
“Your lordship forgets our situation. What could we do on this brig, if the Duncan should give us chase? We could not escape.”
“Escape, John?”
“Yes, my lord. We should try in vain. We should be captured, at the mercy of the wretches. Ben Joyce has shown that he does not hesitate at a crime. I should sell my life dearly. We would defend ourselves to the last extremity. Well! But, then, think of Lady Helena and Mary Grant!”
“Poor women!” murmured Glenarvan. “John, my heart is broken, and sometimes I feel as if despair had invaded it. It seems to me as if new calamities awaited us, as if Heaven had decreed against us! I am afraid!”
“You, my lord?”
“Not for myself, John, but for those whom I love, and whom you love also.”
“Take courage, my lord,” replied the young captain. “We need no longer fear. The Macquarie is a poor sailer, but still she sails. Will Halley is a brutish creature; but I am here, and if the approach to the land seems to me dangerous I shall take the ship to sea again. Therefore from this quarter there is little or no danger. But as for meeting the Duncan, God preserve us, and enable us to escape!”
Captain Mangles was right. To encounter the Duncan would be fatal to the Macquarie, and this misfortune was to be feared in these retired seas, where pirates could roam without danger. However, that day, at least, the Duncan did not appear, and the sixth night since their departure from Twofold Bay arrived without Captain Mangles’s fears being realized.
But that night was destined to be one of terror. Darkness set in almost instantaneously towards evening; the sky was very threatening. Even Will Halley, whose sense of danger was superior to the brutishness of intoxication, was startled by these warning signs. He left his cabin, rubbing his eyes and shaking his great red head. Then he drew a long breath, and examined the masts. The wind was fresh, and was blowing strong towards the New Zealand coast.
Captain Halley summoned his men, with many oaths, and ordered them to reef the topsails. Captain Mangles approved in silence. He had given up remonstrating with this coarse seaman; but neither he nor Glenarvan left the deck.
Two hours passed. The sea grew more tempestuous, and the vessel received such severe shocks that it seemed as if her keel were grating on the sand. There was no unusual roughness, but yet this clumsy craft labored heavily, and the deck was deluged by the huge waves. The boat that hung in the larboard davits was swept overboard by a rising billow.
Captain Mangles could not help being anxious. Any other vessel would have mocked these surges; but with this heavy hulk they might well fear foundering, for the deck was flooded with every plunge, and the masses of water, not finding sufficient outlet by the scuppers, might submerge the ship. It would have been wise, as a preparation for any emergency, to cut away the waistcloth to facilitate the egress of the water; but Will Halley refused to take this precaution.
However, a greater danger threatened the Macquarie, and probably there was no longer time to prevent it. About half-past eleven Captain Mangles and Wilson, who were standing on the leeward side, were startled by an unusual sound. Their nautical instincts were roused, and the captain seized the sailor’s hand.
“The surf!” said he.
“Yes,” replied Wilson. “The sea is breaking on the reefs.”
“Not more than two cable-lengths distant.”
“Not more! The shore is here!”
Captain Mangles leaned over the railing, gazed at the dark waves, and cried:
“The sounding-lead, Wilson!”
The skipper, who was in the forecastle, did not seem to suspect his situation. Wilson grasped the sounding-line, which lay coiled in its pail, and rushed into the port-shrouds. He cast the lead; the rope slipped between his fingers; at the third knot it stopped.
“Three fathoms!” cried Wilson.
“We are on the breakers!” shouted the sober captain to the stupefied one.
Whether the former saw Halley shrug his shoulders or not is of little consequence. At all events, he rushed towards the wheel
