Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the north; but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down from the northwest. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook and rolled terribly. The sea struck her with fearful violence. At night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the approach of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings. He thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken speed. After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think, your honor, that we should do well to make for one of the ports on the coast." "I think so too." "Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?" "I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly. "And that is--" "Shanghai." The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend. He could scarcely realize so much determination and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well--yes! Your honor is right. To Shanghai!" So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track. The night was really terrible. It would be a miracle if the craft did not founder. Twice it would have been all over with her if the crew had not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was exhausted, but did not utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from the violence of the waves. Day reappeared. The tempest still raged with undiminished fury, but the wind now returned to the southeast. It was a favorable change, and the Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and countershocks which would have crushed a craft less solidly built. From time to time the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in sight. The Tankadere was alone upon the sea. There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct as the sun descended towards the horizon. The tempest had been as brief as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a little, and take some repose. The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again hoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good. The next morning at dawn they saw the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and only one day to cross them! That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.