The passengers assembled at breakfast the next morning with anxious faces. They knew that something was very wrong, but could not exactly tell what. The calm continued. A thick mist hung over the ocean as on the previous day, the rocks were no longer in sight, the vessel floated tranquilly on the treacherous waters. Kydd had completely recovered himself. He had the awning spread, and with a smiling countenance invited the passengers to come on deck, and tried to make himself agreeable to Miss Rowley. Some time thus passed. At last I saw the boatswain and several of the men coming up. "Mr Kydd," said the former, "I have to ask you whether you intend to anchor, and try to keep the ship out of danger or not?" "Not till the land is in sight, and I see the necessity," answered Kydd quite calmly. He said nothing more for a minute or so. Then suddenly he exclaimed in a furious tone, "But I am not going to be dictated to by a set of mutinous scoundrels." I need not repeat all his words. Just at that moment I heard that peculiar low, suppressed roar which a seaman knows so well to indicate breakers I begged the mate to listen, telling him what I had heard, but he was deaf to reason, and declared he would only anchor when he saw fit. He seemed to have gone out of his mind, and I felt that I should be justified in assisting the crew in putting him under restraint; but he was in reality as much in his senses as ever, though under the influence of his passion and obstinacy. Just at that moment another roller came in toward the brig from the westward, and the next instant all on deck were almost thrown off their feet. A blow was felt which made her shake fore and aft, and the water, which had hitherto not even rippled against her side, now broke over her in a shower of spray. The passengers started up. Kate clasped her little sister round the neck, and seized the arm of her brother David, who was standing near her. "What is the matter? what has happened?" shrieked out Miss Rowley in an attitude expressive of her terror. "We are on shore," cried some of the men; "that is what has happened." Such was too truly the case. The old captain's warnings had been neglected, and his prognostications were thus terribly fulfilled. CHAPTER TWO. WRECK OF THE "OSPREY," AND OUR ESCAPE. Boastful as the mate had been, he turned deadly pale as he saw the dangerous position in which the brig was placed. When, however, she lay quiet--the sea not again breaking over her--he recovered himself. The crew meantime, led by Barker, had gone aloft, without his orders, to furl sails, the first thing under the circumstances to be done. "Get the boats out," he said at length. His voice had lost its usual authoritative tone. "We must warp the vessel off." "No easy matter to do that," observed the boatswain. "I know what these banks are made of, and it will be a hard job to find holding ground. Which way will you haul her off, sir?"