“Don’t, for mercy’s sake, leave me,” cried Mrs. Warren, clinging to her niece. “What shall I do down here alone?” But a tremendous surge, almost heaving the ship on her beam ends, a new terror overcame the dread of being left for a moment, and she cried, suddenly, “Yes, yes, go, go, and see what is the matter. Tell the captain we are in no hurry. Perhaps it’s his carrying so much sail, as he calls it, that makes the ship lean over so. Dear me, if I once get on dry land, I’ll never trust myself at sea again.” Kate did not wait for a second permission. She crept along towards the forward cabin, which served for the dining room, reached the stairs, and clambered up with difficulty. A moment after she stood upon the deck. The night was now pitch dark. A cold, heavy rain was falling, hissing and dancing as it struck the deck, and occasionally driving wildly past in an almost horizontal direction. But Kate did not for a while even know that it rained. Her entire energies were demanded to keep her feet, for between the violent motion of the ship, and the fury of the wind, she was nearly prostrated. When at last she had gained a slightly sheltered position, and found something to hold on by, she looked anxiously around. The wide expanse of waters was black as ink, except where, here and there, the white caps flashed up. Miss Aylesford, in that first impressive moment, forgot all thought of possible peril, so overpowered was she by the dread majesty of the scene before her. She could liken it to nothing but the abyss of woe, surging its black waters from depths that no plummet could ever sound, impiously against heaven, which frowned in awful anger back; and the illusion was sustained by the white and ghastly objects which flitted across the vision, like spectres cast up from the profound below, and driven remorselessly past by inexorable fates. But this feeling of awe and admiration lasted only for a moment. She remembered her terror-struck aunt below, and looked around to see if there was any person of whom she could inquire. But everybody seemed engaged in a struggle for life or death. A dim figure, in which she fancied she recognized the captain, stood at the helm, with a speaking trumpet at its mouth; while two stalwart forms grasped the spokes of the wheel; and other vague shapes hurried hither and thither across the deck through the darkness and storm. There was a wild confusion of orders, given so rapidly that she could distinguish no words, and of noises compounded of the wind and sea, so that she was almost stunned.