Nothing could be done now but wait patiently to see what was the will of God concerning them. It was most obvious that if the kelp let them through, the ship must be battered to pieces against those precipices, where the sea was at least twenty fathoms deep alongside the rocks. Anchoring was out of the question--seamanship, in fact, was entirely discounted. And so, feeling all this, Captain Hampden, again raising his voice, summoned all hands aft. ‘Boys,’ he said, when they had gathered around him, ‘this looks like our last night of life. Now we’ll pray that God will let us live, but specially we’ll pray that if He doesn’t see fit to grant us any more life we may die clean an’ wholesome. An’ whether we live or die we’ve done our best, and that’s a great comfort.’ So holding on in all sorts of attitudes, those hardly bestead men prayed with the skipper, full of faith that whatever the outcome of the night might be, it would be all right. They finished and were dismissed to their quarters, while the gale howled ever louder, and the awful shadow to leeward deepened.
Hour after hour wore on, while many of the men, in spite of their fears, slept soundly. Rube, indeed, seemed unable to realise that there was any danger at all. Having joined in the general prayer for deliverance he appeared to regard the matter as quite settled, and as not requiring any more care on his or anyone else’s part except the Father’s. Most of the men, over-borne with weariness both of body and brain, slept fitfully in many uncouth attitudes, some half reclining upon banks of grease-exuding blubber gently heaving with the motion of the ship, others twisted into comfortable corners, apparently impervious to cold, or wet, or fear. But the Captain, more at peace with his surroundings than he could understand, and dimly, subconsciously wondering why, sat on the little deck aft listening to the angry roar of the baffled sea far outside the engirdling groves of kelp. The sullen boom of the rollers against that unseen mass to leeward, the hissing, swishing sound of the great leaves restlessly sliding over each other and against the ship, and the ever-deepening roar of the gale overhead made up a concert truly terrifying in its effect upon the heart. And yet Captain Hampden felt little terror. Knowing his utter helplessness, he was driven to as utter a dependence upon a kindly Power which he knew was not merely capable of saving his ship and all hands, but was always benevolently disposed towards man, and never more so than in his hour of deepest distress.