storms force islands up from below; there is one there that came up about 1810 or 1812." "I shall give Miranda some breakfast,” said Harold," and make her lie down for a few hours, and do the same myself. Then we shall be all right for what may happen. Send if you want us, Captain. Tom, you must do likewise." About six o'clock they turned in; at ten, after sound sleep and refreshing baths, they were perfectly fresh and ready for the events of the day. They found breakfast in progress in the saloon, and the magnificent Wilson lecturing on colonial politics to the small clique that professed to admire him. Tackbrook, who was on as good terms with the cook as with the Captain, got a capital omelet made. After that, and a cup of good coffee, slightly dashed with cognac, they felt ready for the day Captain Grainger paced the deck uneasily. At noon the mercury had dropped a quarter of an inch. The majority of the passengers were wisely kept ignorant of the situation; they enjoyed themselves in the sternsheets as usual; but Captain Stuart ostentatiously exhibited his crystal icosahedron, the centre of which had turned jet black. The ladies. to whom he exhibited it were all terrified, and thought something dreadful was going to happen. Stuart was happy; he had created a sensation. Loraine took the trinket from the hands of Alice Mansard, who had been examining it in a half-frightened way. He touched a spring, and then handed it to Stuart-with the centre white! "You are doomed to drowning, I fear," said Loraine, sympathisingly. Stuart looked puzzled, then got up and walked forward. Miranda said to Loraine "What does it mean?" "Those toys are all over Asia," he said. "I've a couple of them somewhere, but I think it's in London. You turn the handle till it comes the colour you want. Our friend Stuart wanted to hoax you." "What a shame!" exclaimed Miranda. "Dreadful! Send him to Coventry, without a return-ticket. By the way, I hope he won't drown himself to prove the truth of his talisman." "Pooh!" quoth Tom Jones, "that's not his destiny." The day continued calm, but still the column of mercury sank, sank, sank, and with it sank Captain Grainger's heart. Everybody on deck was gay enough. The only three of the party to whom the Captain had spoken were of daring temperament, and easily kept up their spirits, sanguine of good luck in any peril. Dinner went gaily. There was a dance on deck afterwards. Amid all the music and gaiety Grainger perpetually consulted his barometer. At sunset it stood 28.8, yet the sky was clear. At ten o'clock most of the ladies had gone below. The only one left, indeed, was Miranda, who, leaning on her father's arm, in a state of intense expectation, searched the sky with those clear eyes of hers. Suddenly, in the dim cobalt eastern sky, she saw a small grey cloud, and pointed it out to the Captain. "It is coming," he said, hoarsely. "Go below, for God's sake." And then he gave swift orders to the crew. They were hardly under hatches when the gale struck the great ship like a thunderbolt, and she staggered into the trough of the sea. CHAPTER IX. THE ISLAND OF HAWKS. "Whence came that marvellous sudden shaft CAPTAIN GRAINGER felt that he could fight any common storm, but this strong rush of tempest was irresistible. It took the great ship as if it had been a feather, and drove it between air and sea with swiftness unimaginable. The engines were paralysed; the masts went by the boards; Grainger, clinging to the ungovernable helm, said, "We are in God's hands!" and waited the event with courage and patience indomitable. Quickly did the unfortunate passengers below discover that something terrible was happening. Tachbrook and Tom Jones tore, up some blankets, and fastened Miranda to a stationary couch, so that she might not be shattered to fragments by the furious movement of the vessel. They could not get from their cabins to aid any one else, for it was impossible to stand upright for an instant, so fiercely was the ship clutched and whirled by the cyclone. They held on to the couch. where Miranda lay, and resolutely awaited certain destruction. Of such moments, how ever brief, there is no description; and when sensations of this sort last, ordinary humanity becomes torpid with terror. It was not so with our friends. How long the ship was driven before the gale they did not know, but they managed to say a good many things to each other before the final catastrophe arrived. The roar of the wind was a strong continuous sound, but did not prevent their voices being heard by each other. "The ship must be lost," said Tom Jones. "I wish I were on deck; I hate being drowned in a hole.” "You won't be drowned," said Miranda; "I was born at sea, you know." |