continually over our boat, obliged me to exert all my strength in lading the water out, as fast as it came in.  The while darkness, palpable and rayless, hemmed us round, dissipated only by the lightning; sometimes we beheld thunderbolts, fiery red, fall into the sea, and at intervals vast spouts stooped from the clouds, churning the wild ocean, which rose to meet them; while the fierce gale bore the rack onwards, and they were lost in the chaotic mingling of sky and sea.  Our gunwales had been torn away, our single sail had been rent to ribbands, and borne down the stream of the wind.  We had cut away our mast, and lightened the boat of all she contained—­Clara attempted to assist me in heaving the water from the hold, and, as she turned her eyes to look on the lightning, I could discern by that momentary gleam, that resignation had conquered every fear.  We have a power given us in any worst extremity, which props the else feeble mind of man, and enables us to endure the most savage tortures with a stillness of soul which in hours of happiness we could not have imagined.  A calm, more dreadful in truth than the tempest, allayed the wild beatings of my heart—­a calm like that of the gamester, the suicide, and the murderer, when the last die is on the point of being cast—­while the poisoned cup is at the lips,—­as the death-blow is about to be given.

Hours passed thus—­hours which might write old age on the face of beardless youth, and grizzle the silky hair of infancy—–­hours, while the chaotic uproar continued, while each dread gust transcended in fury the one before, and our skiff hung on the breaking wave, and then rushed into the valley below, and trembled and spun between the watery precipices that seemed most to meet above her.  For a moment the gale paused, and ocean sank to comparative silence—­it was a breathless interval; the wind which, as a practised leaper, had gathered itself up before it sprung, now with terrific roar rushed over the sea, and the waves struck our stern.  Adrian exclaimed that the rudder was gone;—­“We are lost,” cried Clara, “Save yourselves—­O save yourselves!” The lightning shewed me the poor girl half buried in the water at the bottom of the boat; as she was sinking in it Adrian caught her up, and sustained her in his arms.  We were without a rudder—­we rushed prow foremost into the vast billows piled up a-head—­ they broke over and filled the tiny skiff; one scream I heard—­one cry that we were gone, I uttered; I found myself in the waters; darkness was around.  When the light of the tempest flashed, I saw the keel of our upset boat close to me—­I clung to this, grasping it with clenched hand and nails, while I endeavoured during each flash to discover any appearance of my companions.  I thought I saw Adrian at no great distance from me, clinging to an oar; I sprung from my hold, and with energy beyond my human strength, I dashed aside the waters as I strove to lay hold of him.  As that hope failed, instinctive love of life animated me, and feelings of contention, as if a hostile will combated with mine.  I breasted the surges, and flung them from me, as I would the opposing front and sharpened claws of a lion about to enfang my bosom.  When I had been beaten down by one wave, I rose on another, while I felt bitter pride curl my lip.