The Captain again came on board, but avoided the helmsman. To Gray he
said, "Put out the flying-jib so as to be prepared in case the jib does
not hold, and get ready to cast the anchor." The sailors took their
places at the capstan and made ready to lower the anchor. Meantime the
night had settled down quickly, for in the tropics night follows the
going down of the sun without any twilight. There was a rainbow but
thick banks of clouds driven along by the storm hid it. The darkness
was so intense that you could not see the top of the mast, and even on
the deck it was impossible to distinguish objects only a step or two
away. Now and again a flash of lightning showed the foaming breakers
washing over the reefs and the dark outlines of the island beyond them.
Anxiously every eye was turned towards the point of danger.

"We're not two knots away from those accursed islands," said Gray.

"The storm is rising. The sails will be in shreds in a moment. Such
waves I have never seen before," answered Gray.

The ship danced like a nutshell on the raging waters. The bowsprit
raised itself high in the air, while the stern was buried in the trough
of the sea. All clung to the ropes or whatever object presented itself
expecting to be washed overboard, as the boat shook and creaked in its
agony.

Hanging for dear life to the railing near the wheel the Captain looked
upon the uproar of the elements, and must have admitted to himself that
the helmsman's words of accusation were only too well founded. A
frightful cry shook his soul. "Cain, where is thy brother Abel? What
hast thou done with thy brother's child? What judgment will be