the gale. For an appreciable instant her engines stopped. The mass of
water that swayed the junk like a cork lifted the great ship high by
the stern. The propeller began to revolve in air--for the third officer
had corrected his signal to "full speed ahead" again--and the cumbrous
Chinese vessel struck the _Sirdar_ a terrible blow in the counter,
smashing off the screw close to the thrust-block and wrenching the
rudder from its bearings.

There was an awful race by the engines before the engineers could shut
off steam. The junk vanished into the wilderness of noise and tumbling
seas beyond, and the fine steamer of a few seconds ago, replete with
magnificent energy, struggled like a wounded leviathan in the grasp of
a vengeful foe.

She swung round, as if in wrath, to pursue the puny assailant which had
dealt her this mortal stroke. No longer breasting the storm with
stubborn persistency, she now drifted aimlessly before wind and wave.
She was merely a larger plaything, tossed about by Titantic gambols.
The junk was burst asunder by the collision. Her planks and cargo
littered the waves, were even tossed in derision on to the decks of the
_Sirdar_. Of what avail was strong timber or bolted iron against
the spleen of the unchained and formless monster who loudly proclaimed
his triumph? The great steamship drifted on through chaos. The typhoon
had broken the lance.

But brave men, skilfully directed, wrought hard to avert further
disaster. After the first moment of stupor, gallant British sailors
risked life and limb to bring the vessel under control.

By their calm courage they shamed the paralyzed Lascars into activity.