A spring was instantly placed on the cable, which brought the ship’s broadside more to the wind; the three topsails, double reefed, were set, and the carpenter, having been previously placed ready with an uplifted axe, a single blow (such was now the tension) parted the cable, and the courses being at the same moment added, the vessel, which had been straining for way, flew through the water almost on her beam ends. While she thus rushed towards the dangerous barrier, perfect silence was observed by every one. It was generally apprehended that she must split her canvas, or carry away her masts; yet it was necessary to put her under this heavy press of sail, to overbalance, if possible, the great lee-way she had, and so get her clear of the rocks. She now approached them with incredible velocity, passed them at but a few yards distance, and, shipping two or three heavy seas, weathered the reef in safety. A general shout of joy burst at the moment from the hitherto breathless crowd on the deck, and was as instantly answered by an echoing shout from the prisoners throughout the hold. Some minutes, at least, must elapse, ere Fitz-Ullin could be justified in leaving the deck; he dispatched Arthur therefore to his aunt and Julia, with the joyful tidings, and, as soon as possible, followed him. On entering the cabin, where both ladies now were, our hero’s countenance was covered with the glow of successful exertion. It was animated, it was even joyful! He pressed Lady Oswald’s eagerly offered hands in silence, and passed to Julia. He raised one of hers and paused, as if to take breath, which he had not yet given himself time to do. He looked in silence at her changing colour and downcast eyes, and during the moments so employed, his own expression became entirely altered. Speaking with effort, and, for the occasion, with unnatural coldness, he said, “Arthur has of course informed you that the danger is over: it is only left for me, therefore, to apologize for the rashness of which I was guilty, in giving you unnecessary alarm. And,” he added, in a lowered and somewhat faltering tone, at the same time glancing at Lady Oswald, and seeing that she was engaged by her son, “and for the expression of—in short, feelings which—which had been better unexpressed! The certainty, almost, of approaching death to both, and the brotherly affection I have from childhood been permitted to cherish, are all I can plead in my excuse.” Without waiting for reply, he turned to Lady Oswald, and again hastily taking her hand, murmured something about his duties on deck, and left the cabin. Arthur followed him; and Lady Oswald’s spirits being quite exhausted, she retired to the inner cabin to lie down.