Page 707 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

bow could not have heard them. The vessel lay almost on
her beam ends, with her helm up, stripped even of the sails
which had been furled upon the yards. Mortal hands could
do nothing for her.
By five o’clock in the morning the gale had reached its
height. The heavens showered out rain and lightnings—
rain which the wind blew away before it reached the ocean,
lightnings which the ravenous and mountainous waves
swallowed before they could pierce the gloom. The ship
lay over on her side, held there by the madly rushing wind,
which seemed to flatten down the sea, cutting off the top of
the waves, and breaking them into fine white spray which
covered the ocean like a thick cloud, as high as the topmast
heads. Each gust seemed unsurpassable in intensity, but was
succeeded, after a pause, that was not a lull but a gasp, by
one of more frantic violence. The barometer stood at 27:82.
The ship was a mere labouring, crazy wreck, that might sink
at any moment. At half-past three o’clock the barometer
had fallen to 27:62. Save when lighted by occasional flash-
es of sheet-lightning, which showed to the cowed wretches
their awe-stricken faces, this tragedy of the elements was
performed in a darkness which was almost palpable.
Suddenly the mercury rose to 29:90, and, with one aw-
ful shriek, the wind dropped to a calm. The Lady Franklin
had reached the centre of the cyclone. Partridge, glancing
to where the great body of drunken Blunt rolled helplessly
lashed to the wheel, felt a strange selfish joy thrill him. If
the ship survived the drunken captain would be dismissed,
and he, Partridge, the gallant, would reign in his stead. The

0 For the Term of His Natural Life