The awful, the dreaded moment approached, which would too probably consign every human being on board the zebeque to eternity, for their huge opponent seemed determined to run them down if their colours were not instantly lowered, and even then there was but little chance of their escaping that fate. Another moment and the next vast surge would bring her upon them! A more tremendous blast than they had hitherto felt now struck them, hurling their tiny bark before it into the very jaws of the foe. Deluges of thick rain rushed down, while a loud roar thundered from the clouds, and a vivid flash of lightning darted through the air. A loud shriek of despair rose from the crew: their fate was sealed. "Allah protect us!" cried the Hadji. "This is an awful time." The bravest gasped for breath; the deck seemed to shake beneath their feet. The sea dashed over them, but the thick falling rain obscured all around from their sight. The young page gazed more earnestly at his master, but his limbs trembled not, nor did a word escape his lips. The dreaded shock came not; the vessel still floated on the waves; the thick rain ceased. Again a cry arose from the Turkish crew, but it was no longer that of terror. "Where is the Giaour? where is the Russian ship?" was uttered by the voices of all. They had passed her. There she lay, close on their quarter, with her head to the wind, her foremast shattered to the deck, the spars and rigging dashing against her sides, her bulwarks stove in: the proud ship of Russia, was a wreck--she was on fire! Even at that moment of confusion, some small guns were fired over her stern, with a determined feeling of animosity and revenge, in the hopes of doing some injury, but their shot fell impotently into the waves, and the crew were too much occupied with their own preservation, to pay any further attention to the hard-driven chase. Loud prayers ascended from the deck of the Turk, for their narrow and providential escape; Ivan's heartbeat quicker with gratitude than it had with fear; while young Conrin clasped his hands with silent fervour, and seemed ready to fall at his master's feet with joy. The Hadji, having concluded his brief prayer, exclaimed; "Did I not tell you, Reis, that Allah would protect us, that my prayers would not be in vain? Look, where the late impious Kaffir lies shattered and scathed by Heaven's rage, at the very moment he thought himself secure of his prey. Another time think not that it is your kismet [fate] to die; that will come in Allah's good time; but strive on always to the last. Think you my countrymen could hold out against our mighty foe, if we thought that it was our kismet to be conquered? Bosh! kismet is a good thing, when it points to victory; but else it is nonsense. No, my brother, no; strive while you can, and yield to fate only when it overpowers you." These principles the gallant Hadji not only preached, but with the rest of his countrymen, practised.