And soon after daylight came that startling cry from the man on the lookout—that cry which is so often a sound of rapture or of despair, because it is a herald of life or of death. Ah, Heaven! it was now a knell of doom. “Land ho!” “Where away?” “On her lee bows!” “Thank Heaven!” fervently breathed Mrs. Ely, to whom the words conveyed no other idea than that of a good landing place, where they could all leave the dreadful ship, and go on shore in safety. Mrs. Breton lifted her prostrate head, and ventured to draw a long breath. Miss Conyers never moved or spoke; too well she knew the deadly meaning of the words she had heard—“Land ho!” “On her lee bows!”—when the ship was being driven before the wind at such a furious rate. Silent and breathless she sat, and waited for what should come next. The voice of the captain rang clearly out above the roar of wind and wave. “Luff! Luff!” Too late! Another instant and the doomed ship was lifted high on the top of an enormous wave, and carried forward and cast down with a tremendous shock that crashed and tore through all her timbers from keel to quarter-deck, while she shuddered in a death agony, impaled upon the horns of the hidden rocks! The passengers in the cabin were tossed up and thrown down by the concussion. They were jarred and shaken, but not seriously hurt. They quickly recovered themselves; and all the women except Miss Conyers were surprised and pleased to find that the ship, which had been tossing and pitching with such tremendous force for the last twelve hours had now become nearly motionless. But there was a great deal of rushing about and calling out among the men on deck, and Mr. Ely and Mr. Breton started and ran up to see what it all meant. “What is the matter? Have we landed anywhere? Oh, I suppose of course we have, but with what a stunning shock! It is bad enough when a river steamer strikes the pier too suddenly; but I declare this quite knocked the breath out of my body; and, besides, it was so unexpected! I didn’t know that ships ever did come quite up to piers, and I did not even know we were near any place. What port is it likely to be, do you know, Miss Conyers?” inquired Mrs. Ely. “I do not know where we are. We shall hear presently, I suppose,” replied Britomarte. But too well she knew where they were not—in any place of safety. “Anyhow, I am very glad to be still. I know that,” answered Mary Ely. Martha Breton, who was often frightened out of her senses by slight or imaginary dangers, was now quite cheerful in the midst of the real and appalling peril of which she was fortunately unconscious. She got off the floor and into a chair and began to smooth her disordered hair and dress and to call out to Judith to light the lamps; for though it was daylight, it was still very dark in the cabin. “And you know we have got to dress and go on shore,” added poor Martha.