At this tremendous shock the ship seemed a live thing, shrieking and
wailing, as well as quivering with the blow.
But one voice dissented loudly from the general dismay. "All right men,"
cried Dodd, firm and trumpet-like. "She is broadside on now. Captain
Robarts, look alive, sir; speak to the men! don't go to sleep!"
Robarts was in a lethargy of fear. At this appeal he started into a fury
of ephemeral courage. "Stick to the ship," he yelled; "there is no danger
if you stick to the ship," and with this snatched a life-buoy, and hurled
himself into the sea.
Dodd caught up the trumpet that fell from his hand and roared, "I command
this ship. Officers come round me! Men to your quarters! Come, bear a
hand here and fire a gun. That will show us where we are, and let the
Frenchmen know."
The carronade was fired, and its momentary flash revealed that the ship
was ashore in a little bay; the land abeam was low and some eighty yards
off; but there was something black and rugged nearer the ship's stern.
Their situation was awful. To windward huge black waves rose like
tremendous ruins, and came rolling, fringed with devouring fire; and each
wave as it charged them, curled up to an incredible height and dashed
down on the doomed ship--solid to crush, liquid to drown --with a
ponderous stroke that made the poor souls stagger, and sent a sheet of
water so clean over her that part fell to leeward, and only part came
down on deck, foretaste of a watery death; and each of these fearful
blows drove the groaning, trembling vessel farther on the sand, bumping
her along as if she had been but a skiff.
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