Page:Guy Boothby - The Beautiful White Devil.djvu/202

 "Mr. Patterson, what is your opinion of the weather?" she shouted in his ear, for it was impossible to make yourself heard by any ordinary means. "Don't you think we had better heave to and endeavour to find out how the centre of the storm bears from us?"

"I was just going to do so," Patterson bellowed, in reply. Then, turning to his subordinate, he gave the necessary instructions in a yell that sounded like a fog horn. The yacht's nose was immediately pointed dead to the wind, which at that moment was due N. E., the requisite number of points to the right of it were then taken, and the centre of the approaching hurricane found to be exactly S. S. E, of our position. At this juncture Walworth, who had been acting under instructions, returned from the cuddy and reported the barometer had fallen to 27.45. It might, therefore, be inferred that we were within the storm circle, and, for the same reason, it was apparent that our safety entirely depended upon our being able to avoid the centre of the field. Having decided the direction of the storm, and discovered that we lay in the due line of its advance,—the most dangerous of all,—there was nothing for it but to run with the wind on our starboard quarter.

Never shall I forget the scene presented as our course was changed. Even now, when I shut my eyes, I can see it as clearly before me as if I were standing in the very thick of it again. I can see the heavens, black with angry clouds, frowning down on a confused and angry sea that dashed against our hull with terrific and repeated violence. I can see the waters one moment raising us on high, the next hurling us deep down into some black and horrible abyss. And all the time I can