Gradually the group on the ledge of land hard by the cottages increased as the yacht drew nearer. A few women joined the men, and the talk about the yacht and its owner became general. Cheyne stood a little apart, within hearing, to leeward. The yacht was still half a league from the shore, heading for the bay.

"She has got as much as she wants now," said one of the men.

"Ay, and a trifle more."

"As fine a sea-boat as ever swam!"

"Ay, ay; but this is near as big a gale as ever blew."

"Oh! There's her keel from the bow to the foremast!"

"And there it is from the rudder to the main chains!"

"She'll pick up her moorings in a quarter of an hour."

"And I don't think anyone aboard will be sorry when she's in smooth water."

"Especially the Duke. For my part, I don't like even looking on, and I'd like it still less, but I know she's fit for it, and only plays with it. Fancy how an old collier would behave in a gale like that! It's very well the sea is no worse, or it might poop her."

"Poop her with that way on! You are a freshwater sailor, you are!"

"But suppose she made a stem board?"

"Or flew over the moon!"

"But if she carried away her mainsail she'd pay off, and then she might be pooped."

"If the sky fell, we'd catch larks. Get along with you, for a mud-pilot!"

"I daresay they're all on deck."

"Every soul of them. Why, who could stay below in a gale like that? Everything in her is jumping about like dice in a dice-box."

"They haven't a plate or a cup or a saucer left whole, I'll warrant."

"What odds about the cups and saucers, so long as the Duke--God bless him!--is safe."

"And the men."

"And the men too--and the men too!"

By this time the Seabird was within a few cables' length of the southern or cliff side of Silver Bay. She was now keeping a little more to windward than she absolutely wanted, and, according to a landsman's eye, it might seem Captain Drew meant to run his ship ashore about the middle of the reef. But when you have your vessel well in hand, and know all about her, being a little to windward of where you want to fetch is like having a fine unencumbered estate and a large balance at your banker's, after paying the last penny you can be called upon for.

"Time for him to port now," said one of the men on shore.

"Nice of a mud-pilot like you to teach Captain Drew how to bring the Seabird into Silver Bay! Why, if you were an admiral you'd teach the ships how to graze on the side of mountains, and the marines how to furl a t'gallant sail, you would!"

"Port!" cried Captain Drew. He was standing by the weather-bulwark, abreast of the companion. "Hard a port!" he added.

"Port!" cried Pritchard, who was again at the wheel, as being the best helmsman aboard. The wheel flew round. "Hard a port it is!" called out Pritchard mechanically. The wheel had gone round, and it ought to have ported the helm; but he knew very well it had not. It had spun round as though nothing had been attached to it. When the first few spokes had been put down, the wheel had suddenly run away in the direction he had been forcing it. He looked instantly behind him, sprang forward to where the captain stood, and whispered in a choked hoarse voice:

"She won't answer, sir. The cap-iron's gone!"

"All hands aft! Cut away mainsail!" sang out the captain.

One man sprang into the main-rigging, and went up upon the lee side hand-over-hand; one man sprang on the peak of the gaff, and scrambled up; two men got out on the boom; and in less than three minutes the mainsail had been cut adrift, and was rolled far away down to leeward.

"Your Grace," said the captain, "the rudder-head iron is gone, and I have ordered them to cut away the mainsail."

"Good God!" exclaimed the Duke, who had heard the order, and guessed that something had gone terribly wrong with the rudder head; "then we are lost!"

"She may pay off enough to fetch in," said the captain.

"She will not," said the Duke.

"She will not," thought the captain; but he held his peace.

By this time the men on shore had become aware something was wrong. They had seen the men spring aft, and cut away the mainsail. They had seen the man at the wheel leave it, and they had not seen him or any other man return to his place. From the fact of cutting away the mainsail, and leaving the wheel untended, they came to the conclusion some accident had befallen the steering-gear. For awhile there was nothing but startled looks and violent exclamations, which to Cheyne conveyed no clear idea beyond the fact that some kind of danger assailed the schooner.

The first word of definite import which Cheyne caught was spoken by a powerful-looking man of forty. He said:

"She'll never pay off fast enough! She'll be on the rocks in five minutes!"

This announcement was received by a low moan, which told too plainly that there was no gainsaying the words of the speaker.

Upon hearing these words, Cheyne moved up more closely to the group.

"Where will she come ashore?" he asked.

"On the reef, man!" answered a fisherman hotly; for no man who knows of such things likes to talk at such times.

Cheyne moved back to his old position, and fixed his eyes upon the doomed schooner.

The men and women assembled on the ledge of ground on the northern side of Silver Bay knew too well there was no lifeboat or rocket apparatus within fifteen miles, yet still there was no good in giving way to despair. The yacht was unmistakably going ashore in a few minutes on those rocks. There was little or no hope she could hold together there for anything like the time it would take to send word from Silverview to Bankleigh by horse, and from Bankleigh to the lifeboat station by telegraph, and then have the boat or apparatus round. Yet no chance, however slight, ought to be neglected; and accordingly, before another minute had elapsed, the swiftest man of the group was on his way at the top of his speed to the Castle, to give the alarm, and order the immediate despatch of the fleetest horse in the Duke's stables to Bankleigh.

Once more Cheyne drew near the group of men and women, and listened.

"What can be done when she strikes?" asked one of the women of one of the men.

"Nothing that we know of."

"Couldn't a boat go off to her?" asked the woman.

"No boat ever built could live in those breakers except a lifeboat."

"Could not a line be got to her?"

"How are you to get a line to her? We have no rocket or cannon here. There is no chance for them but to swim."

"Swim!" cried the woman, in terror. "How could anyone swim in that sea, and where would anyone swim to?"

"Hush!" said the man impressively, and for a minute all were mute.

The schooner plunged onward through the foam, for she was already in the white outwash from the shore and threw it madly from her bows. She was showing nothing to the wind but a storm-jib; and although she was paying off, she was paying off too slowly to give any grounds for hope. She had her anchors still, no doubt; but to let go her anchors under her nose in such a sea and with such a way on would be the wildest act of madness. They would drag her nose under or tear the bows out of her, capsize her the moment she broached to and came athwart the sea. Better the rocks than the anchors.

And those rocks looked terrible; huge spikes and feline teeth, over which mounted and broke the irregular billows, white with the sullen back-wash of former waves. When the wallowing billows flung themselves mercilessly upon the rocks, the white spray toiled slowly upward, like hopeless signals of distress.

The ill-fated yacht was now within a cable's length of destruction. There was nothing to be done but to hold on, await the end, and take advantage of everything in favour of one's life.

The men were all clinging to the fore-rigging at the weather-side. The two mates, the captain, the Marquis, and the Duke clung to the after-rigging on the same side. Absolutely nothing could be done. If there had been more time they might have tried the effect of more head-sail on her.

At length one huge wave seized her, flung her aloft, and threw her, as a giant might cast a mighty javelin, upon the rocks. There was a tremendous shock, a mighty crunching sound, an explosion like a cannon when the deck burst up in the waist, the scream of torn metal, the groan of yielding planks and timbers, the loud plunging swash of the water--all in a conflict of broken torrents hidden under a pall of blinding spray that rose over the wreck like smoke over the victim of a sacrifice.

"Her back is broken!" said one of the men on shore standing close to where Cheyne was.

When those on shore could see more clearly, they agreed that the vessel was of course a total wreck, but that the hopes of saving those on board were much better than they had any reason to hope for.

She had, it was true, broken her back; and as she had struck the rock about amidships, and her fore part was firmly wedged in between two rocks, and her after part hung over the ledge of rocks on which she lay, it was most likely the after half would very soon fall off. But it might be fairly counted that the fore part would last some time. The foremast still stood, but the jib had been blown away. No fisherman on the shore thought for a moment the fore part of the Seabird could possibly hold out until the arrival of the lifeboat; but five minutes ago the chances were the schooner would be in staves in ten minutes. Now half of her might be reckoned on to last an hour or two, and in an hour or two--well, there was less certainty of all of them being drowned than if she went to pieces in five minutes.

The two mates, the captain, the Marquis, and the Duke had all gone forward and secured themselves to the weather fore-rigging.

Before many minutes had elapsed, the yacht broke in two, the after part settling down in deep water.