“Drown like a rat, then,” he says with an oath, as he bangs the door and leaves them. They hear him scrambling up the little companion ladder, they hear his voice shouting to the skipper, but the wind shrieks louder, and the howl of the tempest drowns all other sounds. Again there is a rush of water along the deck, a hissing and washing sound, as the huge wave which has occasioned it tears madly on its course, part of it bursting open the cabin door, and flooding the floor on which Gloria and Léonie are standing. “We must get on deck, Léonie; we can’t stay here, child. Here, take hold of my hand; we must keep together,” exclaims Gloria in a quick, peremptory voice. They are half-blinded by the thick spray which sweeps in their faces as they stagger up the ladder, clinging like grim death to the rails. It is pitch dark, not the faintest gleam of light gives them the smallest indication of their whereabouts, only the white foam of the towering billows now and again flashes across their aching eyes, blinded by the salt sea water. Plenty of wreckage is floating about on the deck, and amongst it a life-belt knocks up against one of Gloria’s ankles. With a pleased exclamation she at once secures it, and proceeds to slip it over Léonie’s shoulders. “If this poor wreck founders,” she explains as she does so, “this will keep you afloat, child. I am glad I saw it.” “But you,” says Léonie quickly; “you have not one.” “Never mind me, child. You forget that I can swim. If we manage to stick together, this belt will be a great help to me, as you will see. And now, Léonie, we can do nothing but cling to these rails and trust in God. Keep a good look out for the waves. When you see one rushing this way don’t try and stand up against it, it will only knock you backwards, but bend yourself, hold your breath, and put your head through it. Quick, have a care, child!” She utters these last words in a sharp warning tone as she tightens her grasp on Léonie’s hand. A dense dark wall seems to tower above them, a swirl and a rush is all she hears as a monster wave envelops her and Léonie in its folds. It tears the rail, to which her left hand clings, from her grasp. She feels herself lifted up like a straw, and borne forward by the resistless rush and volume of water. With the desperation of death in her clutch, her right hand still grips the still, cold fingers of her young companion, whose grasp has slackened altogether. A floating spar strikes her with some force. She clutches at it, but it sweeps past her, and is gone as the wave carries her ever onwards. A sudden ebb in the resistless current as if by magic arrests her course. She feels herself dragged back along the line she has come. Then the volume of water abruptly leaves her, and her feet touch the deck again. Gloria is up in a moment; she knows there is not a minute to spare. In her present position another such a billow would sweep her clear of the smack altogether into the raging sea.