and he lay there, knowing nothing, while the engines throbbed and the vessel ploughed its way down the stormy bay. it was only when she plunged out into the open sea, and the giant waves smote upon her, that at least he gazed up again, brought to himself by a lurch of the vessel that flung him to the floor.

he staggered to his feet, clinging to the table. everything was reeling about him; the yacht stood nearly upon her beam-ends as she climbed on the waves. the din of the sea was deafening, indescribable; for a moment the man knew not where he was.

then the captain entered. "we are off, sir," he said grimly; "where do you wish to go?"

"i don't care," answered the other. "go where you please—only let me alone."

[127]"all right, sir," said the captain. "we shall keep on to the northeast, it is safest to face the storm. we shall be off the banks by to-morrow morning."

with those words he turned and left, shaking his head. he had heard that the owner of the comet had made millions in wall street that day; but this looked as if he must have lost them.

meanwhile van rensselaer crouched by the table, alone with his horror.

the afternoon sped on, the sun sank, and darkness came, and with it a new fury to the storm. all the while he was either crouching in a chair and shuddering, or rolling about the cabin floor in his stupor. all through the night he knew nothing of what was going on; nothing of the seething billows that swept past them, tossing the yacht high up on their mountain crests, or crashing down upon her bow with deadly shock; nothing of the captain's vigil and fear, of the toil of the four men at the wheel who fought to hold the yacht's prow against the storm.

[128]he heeded nothing at all until there came all at once a shock, and a grinding noise of something that tore through the vessel's heart. then he gazed up stupidly, feeling that her motion had changed, that she was rolling from side to side, that the blows of the waves were fiercer.

then the cabin door burst suddenly open, and the captain rushed in. "we've broke our shaft!" he panted. "the engines are wrecked!"

van rensselaer gazed at him out of his dull eyes. "hey?" he asked.

"we've broke our shaft!" roared the other, above the noise of the storm.

"well, what of that?" demanded van rensselaer. "what do i care?"

"we are helpless!" yelled the captain, "helpless! don't you understand?—we are adrift—we will go on the rocks!"

van rensselaer stood clinging to the table, staring; he was repeating the words, half to himself, as if the meaning of them were not yet clear in his clouded brain. "helpless! adrift! go on the rocks!" and then,[129] suddenly seeing the wild look in the captain's eyes, he sprang at him, screaming: "we don't want to go on the rocks! no; you are mad! do something! stop her!"

the other saw that he was drunk; but fear was sobering van rensselaer fast, as excitement had done once before. "where are we?" he cried. "where are we?"

an awful blow shook the vessel; she reeled and staggered, and the two waited in fright; then, as she righted herself, the captain answered: "we are off the coast of maine—about fifty miles off. but we are drifting; and we can do nothing at all. if help does not come, we are lost."

"help must come!" screamed van rensselaer. he understood clearly at last. "you are crazy! it cannot be!"

and he started toward the companionway, the captain at his side. as he tried to open the door, however, he stooped, appalled at the wildness of the night. it was black outside; but the wind was a fierce living thing that smote him in the face, and the hissing spray stung like hail. van rensselaer[130] stared out only long enough to see a rocket start out from the deck and cleave its way into the sky, and then he reeled back into the cabin.

the man was now aware of his situation, and every emotion was gone but terror. he staggered about, flung this way and that with the tossing of the yacht, raising his clenched hands in the air, and screaming in frantic fear: "my god, my god! it can't be! it's a lie! save us! what shall we do?"—and so on, until the captain turned in sheer disgust and went back to the deck and his duty.

but that van rensselaer did not even know—he raced on back and forth, crazed and raving. all was dead in him now but the wild beast—if, indeed, there had ever been anything else alive in him. he wanted to live—he wanted to get on the land—he was worth a hundred million dollars—he—he! and was he to be drowned like a prisoned rat in a cage? his cries rang above all the storm; he called on god—he wept—he prayed—he cursed; and all[131] the while the mad storm roared on, howling outside like some savage beast that was fighting to get at him, and driving the little vessel on before it to its doom. there was no one to hear him, the prisoned rat in the cage, though he foamed at the mouth in his frenzy.