and to “stand by to ware ship.”  These orders came out so fast, and in so peremptory a manner, that remonstrance was out of the question, and Mark set himself at work to obey them, in good earnest. He would have tacked in preference to waring, and it would have been much wiser to do so; but it was clearly expedient to get the ship on the other tack, and he lent all his present exertions to the attainment of that object.  Waring is much easier done than tacking, certainly; when it does not blow too fresh, and there is not a dangerous sea on, no nautical manoeuvre can be more readily effected, though room is absolutely necessary to its success.  This room was now wanting.  Just as the ship had got dead before the wind, and was flying away to leeward, short as was the sail she was under, the atmosphere seemed to be suddenly filled with a strange light, the sea became white all around them, and a roar of tumbling waters arose, that resembled the sound of a small cataract.  The ship was evidently in the midst of breakers, and the next moment she struck!

The intense darkness of the night added to the horrors of that awful moment.  Nevertheless, the effect was to arouse all that there was of manliness and seamanship in Captain Crutchely, who from that instant appeared to be himself again.  His orders were issued coolly, clearly and promptly, and they were obeyed as experienced mariners will work at an instant like that.  The sails were all clewed up, and the heaviest of them were furled.  Hillson was ordered to clear away an anchor, while Mark was attending to the canvas.  In the mean time, the captain watched the movements of the ship.  He had dropped a lead alongside, and by that he ascertained that they were still beating ahead.  The thumps were not very hard, and the white water was soon left astern, none having washed on deck.  All this was so much proof that the place on which they had struck must have had nearly water enough to float the vessel, a fact that the lead itself corroborated.  Fifteen feet aft was all the Rancocus wanted, in her actual trim, and the lead showed a good three fathoms, at times.  It was when the ship settled in the troughs of the sea that she felt the bottom.  Satisfied that his vessel was likely to beat over the present difficulty, Captain Crutchely now gave all his attention to getting her anchored as near the reef and to leeward of it, as possible.  The instant she went clear, a result he now expected every moment, he was determined to drop one of his bower anchors, and wait for daylight, before he took any further steps to extricate himself from the danger by which he was surrounded.