It was a moment of great anxiety, for as she fell off the seas struck her broadside on, but Captain Weber had watched his time. One huge toppling wave came rushing onwards. "Hold on," shouted the captain; as striking the brig's bulwarks it stove them in, smashing the gig, and pouring into the waist of the vessel, hid her for a moment under the white foam. The buoyant craft rose, turning her stern to the waves, and feeling the full force of the foresail, dashed along straight for the shore. "Steady, so; starboard a little; steady," shouted the captain, as with the trumpet in his right hand, he held on with a seaman's grip to the shrouds. His cap had blown away to leeward, and his long grey hair was streaming on the wind, both he and the missionary having been buried under the boiling foam, as the "Halcyon" wore round. The sharp jerking motion of the previous day was now exchanged for one much easier. Rising on the wave, the brig felt the full force of the gale, and seemed about to leave her native element, as the broad sheet of stout canvass tore her along, to sink the next moment in the deep trough, the canvass shaking, and astern, a mighty wave curling, and tipped with white foam, about to break on her deck, but to glide away under her keel, as she drove madly on for land, where not half a mile ahead lay the narrow opening to Saint Augustine's Bay. "Keep close to the bluff crowned by the cocoa-nuts," shouted Wyzinski, as the brig, sinking in the trough, yawed wildly to port. Onward drove the "Halcyon." She entered the outlet; one wild roll on the surging wave, and her fore-yard seemed to touch the bare rock; the next she ran into a noble and nearly land-locked bay. "Port your helm; hard a-port," shouted the captain. "See the anchor clear." A dozen men swarmed on the forecastle. "Brail up the foresail;" and the clue garnets rattled as the sail was quickly furled. The brig giving a broad sheer came sweeping round, gradually lost her way; then feeling the wind aloft, gathered sternway. "Let go the anchor," shouted Captain Weber. "Let go the anchor!" roared Mr Lowe, from his post on the quarter-deck. A heavy splash followed, and the next moment the "Halcyon," her starboard bulwarks gone for a length of two yards abaft, the forechains, the remains of her gig swinging at the davits, her fore-topmast and jib-boom gone, her foremast, main, and main-topmasts only standing, her first-mate lying hundreds of fathoms deep in the salt sea, rode on an even keel by a single anchor in Saint Augustine's Bay, the gale roaring, and the dark masses of clouds flying over head. Volume 2, Chapter III. SAINT AUGUSTINE'S BAY.--THE MISSIONARY'S TALE.