Part 33 (2/2)
A moment later he came running aft again.
”Captain!”
”Well.”
”Tack about!”
”Why?”
”I am certain of having seen a very high rock just ahead. It is the Great Hanway.”
”You have seen nothing but a thicker bank of fog.”
”It is the Great Hanway. Tack, in the name of Heaven!”
Clubin gave the helm a turn.
V
CLUBIN REACHES THE CROWNING-POINT OF GLORY
A crash was heard. The ripping of a vessel's side upon a sunken reef in open sea is the most dismal sound of which man can dream. The Durande's course was stopped short.
Several pa.s.sengers were knocked down with the shock and rolled upon the deck.
The Guernsey man raised his hands to heaven:
”We are on the Hanways. I predicted it.”
A long cry went up from the s.h.i.+p.
”We are lost.”
The voice of Clubin, dry and short, was heard above all.
”No one is lost! Silence!”
The black form of Imbrancam, naked down to the waist, issued from the hatchway of the engine-room.
The negro said with self-possession:
”The water is gaining, Captain. The fires will soon be out.”
The moment was terrible.
The shock was like that of a suicide. If the disaster had been wilfully sought, it could not have been more terrible. The Durande had rushed upon her fate as if she had attacked the rock itself. A point had pierced her sides like a wedge. More than six feet square of planking had gone; the stem was broken, the prow smashed, and the gaping hull drank in the sea with a horrible gulping noise. It was an entrance for wreck and ruin. The rebound was so violent that it had shattered the rudder pendants; the rudder itself hung unhinged and flapping. The rock had driven in her keel. Round about the vessel nothing was visible except a thick, compact fog, now become sombre. Night was gathering fast.
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