The wind howled, and shrieked, and whistled in the rigging, the seas roared and dashed against the sides of the corvette, as under bare poles she rushed on amidst them.  Now she rose to the summit of a dark green mountainous billow, with its crest all leaping, foaming, and hissing; then she glided rapidly down its side, as if it had been an ice-mountain, into the dark valley below, again to rise up more slowly to the top of another sea, suddenly to find herself once more in the deep trough, with a huge curling wave reaching almost to her tops, threatening to break over her.  Two of the quartermasters were at the helm.  The officers were all on deck, the crew at their stations.  No one could tell what might next happen.

“If the wind holds as it does now, we shall be all right,” observed Mr Truck, the master, “but if it shifts, we may find ourselves running in among some ugly navigation, and our best chance is to scud as we are doing.”

“Hurricanes always do shift,” observed Captain Trevelyan:  “but we must hope for the best.  The wind may hold in its present quarter for some time to come.”

“Well, Bill, what do you think of this here breeze?” asked Tommy Rebow.  “I was telling you it blew pretty stiffish out in these parts.”

“Why, that if I had my choice, I would rather it did not blow so hard; but then do you see, Tommy, we have not got our choice, and it’s for us to take the weather as we find it.  I am very sure that God has got His reasons for sending this hurricane, though maybe we don’t see them, and so it’s our business to make the best of it.”

“Maybe,” put in old Grim; “but I have a notion you won’t be so content as you are now, when it comes on to blow ten times harder.  I tell you I am expecting every moment to see the ship come right up, with one of those seas breaking clean over her, and then there will be `cut away the masts’ in earnest, if there’s time for it, and if not, we shall all go to the bottom together.”

Jack Windy and two or three other men who heard old Grim growling out these remarks, burst into a loud laugh.  “Why, any one would suppose you had taken a double dose of growling-powder, old Grim,” exclaimed Jack.  “Do you want to frighten these young chaps, or not?  If you do, maybe they will be taking a turn out of you one of these days.  Of course it may blow, and a good deal harder than it does now; but the Lilly is not a craft to mind a cap full of wind, more or less, and she will weather a worse gale than this, I have a notion.”

Night was coming on.  The hurricane raged as fiercely as ever; the light grew greyer and greyer, till, by degrees, a black darkness settled down over the ocean.  Still the seas rose up more wild and fierce-looking every instant, and the ship rushed on, seemingly into space.  Sharp eyes only could see beyond the jib-boom, yet there were some who could have pierced even that thick darkness, if there had been anything to see besides the tossing seas.  They, however, only appeared leaping up ahead and round the ship, as if each one was eager to get hold of her, and carry her down to the depths of old ocean.  On, on she flew.  The captain and master frequently cast anxious looks at the compass in the binnacle, while the second lieutenant with the boatswain went forward and stood on the forecastle, peering with all their might and main into the darkness ahead.  Not a few other eyes were trying to look out ahead also; but it seemed as if all the eyes and all the looking would do little to discover any object, till the ship was too close to avoid it.  The seconds appeared like minutes, the minutes hours, as thus the corvette rushed on.  Not a man spoke.  In truth, speaking, except at the top of the voice, was of little use, the howling of the wind and the roaring of the sea drowning all other sounds.

At length, however, there came a cry from forward, such as a seaman alone could give.  “Breakers!  Breakers!  On the starboard bow!” It reached right aft, sounding high above the hurricane.

“Starboard the helm!” cried the captain.

There were few on board who did not hold their breath, till they were obliged to gasp for more.  It seemed as if the last moments of the ship and all on board were approaching.  Yet there was no sign of terror; not a man quitted his station.  The captain sprang into the starboard rigging and looked anxiously out on that side.  His eye distinguished breakers, and his ear the increased roaring of the seas, as they dashed against the rocky impediment to their course.  Would the ship weather the reef, and if she did, were there more reefs ahead?  On she flew; but the compass showed that she had come up a little to the wind:  still there was now the danger, as her bows met the seas, of their breaking on board.

“Hold on!  Hold on for your lives!” shouted the second lieutenant, as he and the boatswain, clinging desperately to the fore-stay, saw a huge sea about to break over the ship’s bows.  On it came.  It was upon them, and over them it burst, deluging the deck, and almost tearing them from their hold.  The crew clung to whatever they could grasp.  On rolled the sea across the deck, with difficulty finding its way through the scuppers, the greater bulk at length breaking open a port, and thus getting free, a considerable quantity of water, however, finding its way down below.

“If another sea like that comes aboard us, we shall be sent to the bottom!” exclaimed old Grim, shaking himself from the water, which had covered him from head to foot.  “It’s lucky you boys have got paws to hold on by, like Master Queerface there, or you would have broken biscuit for the last time.”

Neither Bill nor Tommy made any answer.  Tommy, in fact, was more frightened than he had ever before been in his life, and Bill could not help feeling that the ship was in no small danger.  Still he thought to himself, “There’s One looking after us who can help us better than we can ourselves, and so why should I cry out till I have got something to cry for?”

Many on board who saw the breakers, expected every instant to hear the fearful crash of the ship driving on the pointed rocks, to see the masts falling, and the seas come leaping triumphantly over the shattered wreck; but it was not to be so.

The first danger was passed, and no other sign of breakers was perceived.  The master had gone below to examine the chart.

“We may keep her before the wind again,” he said.  “All is clear ahead, for if any of those ugly seas were to break on board, it might play havoc with the barky.”

The longest night has an end.  In the middle of the watch, the hurricane began to abate, and though the seas tumbled and rolled, and leaped and roared, with almost unabated fury, it was evident that there was much less wind.  At length the fore-topsail was set, closely reefed, and the ship ran bounding on from sea to sea, as if escaping from the huge billows which came roaring up astern.  Next the foresail was set.  Another sail succeeded, till once more, under her usual sail, in spite of the heavy sea still running, the ship was hauled up on her course, a long way out of which she had for some time been running.  The sun shone forth, casting his beams on the white crests of the seas, making them glitter and shine like frosted silver.

“Well, Grimshaw,” said Bill, addressing old Grim, “the sun has come out, as I said he would, and the hurricane has had its blow, and we shall have fine weather again presently.”

“Don’t you be boasting too much about that, youngster,” answered old Grim.  “You don’t know what is going to happen next, and you will be laughing on the wrong side of your mouth before long, so look out for squalls, boy.”

No one minded what old Grim said, so these remarks made but little impression on Bill, and he went about his duties with as much briskness as ever.  Bill was a favourite on board; no doubt about that, both among officers and men.  The lieutenants had applied to have him appointed as one of the boys in the gun-room.  It would give him more work; but Bill was ready for that at all times.

The sun had set.  It was rapidly growing dark, when the watch on deck were ordered to take a reef out of each of the topsails.  Bill and Tommy Rebow sprang up the mizen rigging, as they were both in the mizen-top, and were soon lying out on the mizen-topsail yard.  They were both in high spirits, feeling up to anything at the moment.  One of the older topmen was in the lee-earing.  Bill was next to him.  Tommy came next.  Suddenly the ship gave a tremendous lurch.  There was a cry.

“Where’s Bill?” exclaimed Tommy, a horror coming over his heart.

“A man overboard!  A man overboard!” was shouted from the mizen-top.  It was echoed from below.

At that instant the captain came on deck.  In falling, Bill had struck the chain-span of the weather-quarter davits, breaking it as if it had been packthread.  Mr Collinson, the second lieutenant, who had charge of the deck, pointed it out to the captain.

“The poor fellow must have been killed, whoever he was.”

“Who is it?” asked the captain.

“Sunshine Bill!” cried out a voice.

“Bill Sunnyside, sir,” said another.

“Alas!” thought the captain, “the poor lad I promised his widowed mother I would look after.  Does any one see him?” asked the captain.

“Yes, sir; there he is!  There he is!” answered several voices.

Bill was seen floating on the top of a foaming sea.  The life-buoy was let go, its bright light bursting forth, and burning a welcome beacon, it might be, to poor Bill.  He was known to be a good swimmer.  No boy was equal to him on board.  The ship was flying away, however, at a rapid rate from him.  Many declared that they saw him swimming, and that therefore he could not have been killed, as had been supposed.  Captain Trevelyan gazed for an instant at the spot where Bill had been seen.  He was no longer, however, visible.  It was a moment to him of intense anxiety.  To lower a boat in that foaming sea would in all probability cause the loss of many more, and yet could he desert the poor lad?

Suddenly, with startling energy, he shouted out, “Wear ship!  Up with the helm!  Square away the after-yards!”

The ship went on plunging into the heavy seas as she made a wide circuit, the yards being again braced up on the other tack.