A long time elapsed, even after she had retired to her berth, before Kate could sleep. A vague presentiment seemed to oppress her. In vain she closed her eyes. The gradually increasing wind, and the rush of the waters alongside, prevented slumber. Once or twice she forgot herself in a doze, but a louder shriek of the rising gale, or a sudden dash of some huge billow against the timbers at her head, roused her with a start. Still, as there was nothing of fear in her nature, these things did not agitate her. She never even thought that anything serious impended, for she had heard such sounds often before during the voyage. Finally, long after her aunt was lost in slumber, she fell asleep. She was roused suddenly, some hours after, by the noise of her relative. “Wake up, my child, wake, wake,” cried the good lady in accents of terror. “We are all going to the bottom. Oh! what shall we do?” Kate sat up in bed and looked around. She and her aunt occupied the after cabin of the ship, which had been engaged exclusively for them; and this apartment was now lighted by a swinging lamp, which threw a faint yellowish hue on the surrounding objects. The floor of the cabin, rising almost perpendicularly, and then sinking again, showed that the ship pitched and rolled with unusual severity. Kate had never seen anything like it. Her aunt was dressing as rapidly as a person could, who had always to hold on to something with one hand, and often with two. On deck, the hurrying of feet, the rattling of blocks, the creaking of yards, the sharp whistling of wind through the cordage, the quick, loud word of command, and other noisy and tumultuous sounds, betokened some important crisis. The roar of the sea had become almost deafening. It was, however, occasionally exceeded by the thunder of the gale, which now dying partially away, swelled again into a volume that overpowered everything else. At rare intervals, when other noises partially subsided, Kate fancied she could distinguish the rushing sound of rain. The terror of her aunt called up all the courage of Miss Aylesford. Hastily attiring herself, she staggered across the cabin floor to her relative, and began to assist the latter’s shaking hands. “They have fastened us down here, too, I suppose,” cried Mrs. Warren, in a tremulous voice. “We shall be drowned, without having a chance to get on deck.” Kate herself knew not but that, in another moment, the ship might sink. Certainly, all she had ever read, or imagined, of a storm at sea, was nothing to this. She felt that if there was something tangible to meet, if she could only get on deck and see what was going on, she would be better able to face the peril. “We are in God’s hands, you know, aunt. If you are not afraid of being left alone, I will try to reach the deck, and learn what is the matter—”