the storm, and its consequences.

it came at length with awful speed and fury.

at first there was a stifling heat in the atmosphere; then clouds began to dim the sky. mysterious and solemn changes seemed to be taking place in nature—noiselessly for a time. ere long the war began with a burst of heaven’s artillery. it was distant at first; muttering, prolonged, and fitful, like the rattling musketry of advancing skirmishers. soon a roar of deafening thunder rent the sky. another and another followed, with blinding flashes of lightning between, while rain came down in torrents.

the order had been given to take in the mainsail, and the little vessel was almost under bare poles, when the storm burst upon it, and threw it nearly on its beam-ends.

righting from the first shock, it sprang away like a living creature trying to escape from some deadly foe. ere long the waves were up and the storm was raging in all its fury.

“if it holds like this till to-morrow, we’ll be in port by noon,” said haco barepoles to gaff as they stood near the wheel, holding on to the backstays, and turning their backs to the seas that swept heavily over the side from time to time.

“you speak as if you wor sure o’ gettin’ in,” said gaff.

“well, we an’t sure o’ nothin’ in this world,” replied the skipper; “if providence has willed it otherwise, we can’t help it, you know. we must submit whether we will or no.”

“d’ye know,” rejoined gaff, “it has often bin in my mind, that as christian men, (which we profess to be, whether we believe our own profession or not), we don’t look at god’s will in the right way. the devil himself is obliged to submit to god whether he will or no, because he can’t help it. don’t ’ee think it would be more like christians if we was to submit because it is his will?”

before haco could answer, an enormous wave came curling over the stern.

“mind your helm, lad!”

the words were scarce uttered when a heavy mass of water fell inboard, almost crushing down the deck. for some moments it seemed as if the little vessel were sinking, but she cleared herself, and again rushed onward.

that night the wind chopped round, and haco was obliged to lay-to until daylight, as the weather was thick. before morning the gale took off and at sunrise had moderated into a stiff breeze. all that day they beat slowly and heavily against the wind, which, however, continued to decrease. at night the wind again veered round to the northward, enabling the “coal-coffin” to spread most of her canvass, keep her course, and bowl pleasantly along before the breeze. but the weather was still thick, necessitating a sharp look-out.

during most of this time our friend billy was confined, much against his will, to the bandbox cabin, where he did as much mischief as he could in the circumstances.

towards midnight, while haco and gaff were standing by the man on the look-out, who was on the heel of the bowsprit, they fancied they observed something looming up against the dark sky on the weather bow.

the look-out gave a shout.

“port! port! hard a-port!” roared the skipper, at the same moment bounding aft.

“port it is!” replied the man at the wheel, obeying with promptitude.

the sloop sheered away to leeward. at the same instant the hull of a great vessel bore right down upon them. the yell of the steam-whistle betrayed her character, while the clanging of the fog-bell, and shouts of those on board, proved that the sloop had been observed. at the same time the seething sea that flowed like milk round her bow, showed that the engines had been reversed, while the captain’s voice was heard distinctly to shout “starboard! starboard hard!” to the steersman.

the promptitude with which these orders were given and obeyed, prevented the steamer from running down the sloop altogether. a collision, however, was unavoidable. the crew of the sloop and the russians, seeing this, rushed to the place where they expected to be struck, in order to leap, if possible, into the head of the steamer. even the steersman left his post, and sprang into the weather shrouds in the hope of catching some of the ropes or chains below the bowsprit.

on came the steamer like a great mountain. her way had been so much checked that she seemed merely to touch the side of the sloop; but the touch was no light one. it sent the cutwater crashing through bulwark, plank, and beam, until the “coal-coffin” was cut right down amidships, within a foot of the water-line. there was a wild cry from the men as they leaped towards their destroyer. some succeeded in grasping ropes, others missed and fell back bruised and stunned on the sloop’s deck.

billy had been standing beside his father when the steamer was first observed, and naturally clung to him. gaff put his left arm tight round the boy, and with the others prepared for a spring, believing, as did all the rest, that the sloop would be sunk at once.

not so haco barepoles, who went to the wheel of his little vessel, and calmly awaited the result.

gaff’s spring at the chains of the cutwater was successful, but in making it he received a blow on the head from one of the swinging blocks of the sloop which almost stunned him, insomuch that he could only cling to the chain he had caught with the tenacity of despair.

one of the sailors observed him in this position of danger, and instantly descending with a rope fastened it under his chest, so that he and billy were safely hauled on board, and the former was led below to have his head examined by the surgeon.

meanwhile the men in the bow of the steamer shouted to haco to come on board.

“no, thank’ee,” replied the skipper, “shake yourself clear o’ my riggin’ as fast as ye can, and let me continoo my voyage.”

“your sloop is sinking,” urged the captain of the steamer.

“not sinkin’ yet; i’ll stick to her as long as she can float.”

“but you’ve none of your men left on board, have you?”

“no; better without ’em if they’re so easy frightened.”

as he said this one of his own men slid quickly down a rope that hung from the steamer’s bowsprit, and dropt on the deck of the sloop, exclaiming—

“it’ll never be said o’ tom grattan that he forsack his ship so long as a man wos willin’ to stick by her.”

haco took tom by the hand as he went aft and shook it.

“any more comin’?” he said, glancing at the faces of the men that stared down upon him.

there was no reply.

“you can’t expect men to volunteer to go to the bottom,” said the captain of the steamer. “you’re mad, both of you. think better of it.”

“back your ship off, sir!” said haco in a deep stern voice.

the order was given to back off, and the vessels were soon clear. haco put his sloop at once on the larboard tack, and looking over the side observed that the bottom of the yawning gap was thus raised nearly three feet out of the water.

“tom,” said he, resuming his place at the wheel, “go and nail a bit of canvas over that hole. you’ll find materials down below. we’ll have to steer into port on this tack, ’cause if we try to go on the other, she’ll sink like a stone. i only hope the wind’ll hold as it is. look alive now!”

in a few minutes the little craft was away and the captain of the steamer, seeing that she did not sink, continued his course.

next day haco barepoles steered the “coal-coffin” triumphantly into the port of london, with a hole in her side big enough, if tom grattan’s report is to be believed, “to admit of a punt bein’ row’d d’rect from the sea into the hold!”