"Do you see your marks now, Mr Brail--there in the clear?" cried the master. "Yes; I have the two trees on with the hummock--we are running straight as an arrow for the channel." "Steady then," sung out the old master. "Steady," I returned once more. On the right hand and on the left the swell was by this time breaking in thunder, flashing up in snowflakes, and sending up a misty drizzle into the cold moonlight sky; but the channel right a-head was still comparatively quiet. The schooner made an attempt to luff across our bows. "Aim at him again," sung out old Bloody Politeful. "Aim at him again, Lanyard; to heave-to here is impossible." "Boarders, stand by," cried Lanyard; but he once more, as we approached him, kept away. We were now actually on the bar. The noise was astounding--deafening. The sea foamed and raged, and flew up in mist, and boiled in over our decks on either hand, as if we had been borne away in some phantom ship, that floated on white foam instead of water; while, in the very channel we were running through, the heave of the sea from without was met by the rush of the stream downwards, and flashed up in numberless jets of sparkling water, which danced about in the moonlight, and curled, and hissed, and vanished, as if they had been white-shrouded, unreal midnight spectres. We ran on, the strange sail on our lee-beam. "Now is your chance," shouted old Pumpbolt; "jam him down against the long reef there--up with your helm, Mr Brail." "Ease off the sheets," chimed in the first lieutenant. "Handsomely, men--handsomely." In an instant our broadsides were rasping. "Starboard--shove him down, Mr Brail!" again shrieked the master; "hard-a-weather--keep her away, and ram him on the reef there, or let us board him--time enough to luff when he strikes." I was fully alive to all this. The whole scene was now brightly lit up by the glorious moon, and we could perfectly see what we were about. We sheered close aboard of the schooner. "Fire, small-arm men--boarders, be ready." He still eschewed the combat, however, and kept off the wind also. A bright rainbow was at this moment formed by the moonbeams in the salt spray--the blessed emblem of peace and forgiveness--_here!_ thought I, even in that overwhelming moment. Yes; the bow of the Immutable, of Him who hath said, "My ways are not like your ways!" spanned the elemental turmoil, the scene of the yet more fearful conflict of man's evil passions, in a resplendent arch, through which the stars sparkled, their bright rays partaking of the hues through which they shone. Oh, it was like the hope of mercy breaking through, the gloom, and sanctifying, if it could not still, the troubled heavings of a sinner's deathbed! "A good omen--a glorious omen!" shouted young de Walden in the excitement of the moment. "Jam her on the reef!" again yelled the master.