The waves, notwithstanding the confined area of the little bay, rose with a tremendous swell; though so far unlike the alternate mountain and valley of the open ocean, that the whole body of water which the basin contained, seemed to swing at once to and fro with a simultaneous movement, which every time threatened to dash the frigate against the perpendicular sides of the cliff. At another moment, would the hurricane seize, as it were, the helpless vessel in its stupendous grasp, and appear about to lift her from the water. She seemed, in short, the sole object of contention to the warring element; while they, in their fury, appeared resolved to tear her in a thousand pieces and part her among them, rather than give up the struggle. Fitz-Ullin saw that any effort to get out of this dangerous bay or creek, must, at present, prove impossible, as the wind blew directly in; and it was quite evident that the reef must bring them up, before sufficient canvas could be set, to give the ship headway. He summoned however the officers and crew around him, to afford them the usual privilege of giving their opinion in a case of so much emergency. Some were for cutting away the masts and making the boats ready; but this would be forsaking the post of duty too soon. Some recommended attempting to get under way; but this, as had been shown, with the wind right ahead, would have been madness. Fitz-Ullin therefore rejected each of those suggestions, and finally decided on clinging, as long as the cable held, to the only rational hope which remained, that of the wind chancing to abate, or shift a little in their favour before any fatal catastrophe should take place. CHAPTER XXXII. “Must she then die!” “Pitying heav’n, deprive me of mem’ry!” The fears of both ladies had, on the evening before, been allayed as much as possible. The peculiarly hazardous situation of the vessel was of course not explained to them. Now, therefore, though they heard the raving of the tempest, and could not avoid being alarmed, they were by no means aware of the full extent of the danger; and even fancied, (as in such cases women and children always do,) that so near land they must be comparatively safe. Lady Oswald was in the inner cabin; Julia in the outer one; when, to her utter astonishment, Fitz-Ullin entered, and with a countenance of the deepest seriousness, without hesitation or apology, approached and clasped her to his breast. He looked at her mournfully; he kissed her forehead. “Julia,” he said, “when I have done what I can for the ship, I will return to you.” He again pressed his lips on her fair brow; but now it was with a wild fervour, differing widely from the tender solemnity which had at first characterized his manner. Lady Oswald entered. He had just time to release the passive Julia, the excess of whose surprise had so entirely suspended every faculty, that she had not even blushed. She did so now, to an excess that was overwhelming.