It was a fearful position, but, as the river gradually widened, the danger decreased every moment. The scene, however, was still terrific, and sufficient to appal the stoutest heart. The gloomy light, the black shore, the two stranded ships, which the eye could now plainly distinguish, and the boom of the guns of distress, with the furious bellowing of the wind, and the raging waves, made one feel like a mite in the creation, and perfectly at the mercy of the elements. Moreover, the wind being right aft, and the waves, though not high, running in what would technically be called a cross-sea, caused the ship to pitch so violently, that the crew, notwithstanding they were inured to such situations, could hardly maintain their places on the deck, and were obliged to hold on for support to contiguous belaying-pins, and well-secured halyards. Still the indomitable captain, with one foot planted firmly against a prostrate grating, which was pushed up to the ship’s bulwark, maintained his place at the helm. It required his utmost vigour to make the helm obey him, but so iron-bound was his frame, and so unbending his promptitude, that, with the help of the wind, he mastered all opposition, and kept the ship in the mid-channel. The gallant bark flew along like an arrow. She soon passed the two wrecks, and, after an interval of about two hours, came in sight of the fortress, described in a former chapter, which guards the river’s mouth. The crew hardly ventured to breathe as she arrived abreast of the all-commanding castle. But, to their great relief, she encountered no molestation, but shot over the bar unscathed. The inspirited mariners burst into a hearty hurrah at this happy deliverance; and Master Halyard, relieved from his look-out, hastened to join Hildebrand, and congratulate him on their almost miraculous escape. To a landsman, by whom their position could not be understood, there would have seemed but small ground for congratulation. They were in the Bay of Biscay, and the wind, now unbroken by any heights, which had bordered either side of the river, blew a perfect gale. The ship, though running under bare poles, was up in the air on one side, and almost touched the water on the other; and the sea rose up beyond like a great wall. High as it was reared, one could hear it curling at the top, with a long, shrill roar; and what withheld it from at once dashing on the ship, and overwhelming it in destruction, appeared to be a singular and unfathomable mystery. But, to the eyes of the mariners, these particulars, in reality, presented little danger. They had a good ship, a fair offing, and plenty of room; and though, of course, brighter weather would have been more welcome, their present situation was not so perilous, and gave them little serious concern.