Then I remember no more; till suddenly—­a frightful roar of wind, a shriek of terror from the awakening crew, and a whip-like sting of water in our faces.  Some of the men ran to let go the haulyards and lower the sail, but the parrel jammed and the yard would not come down.  I sprang to my feet and hung on to a rope.  The sky aft was dark as pitch, but the moon still shone brightly ahead of us and lit up the blackness.  Beneath its sheen a huge white-topped breaker, twenty feet high or more, was rushing on to us.  It was on the break—­the moon shone on its crest and tipped its foam with light.  On it rushed beneath the inky sky, driven by the awful squall behind it.  Suddenly, in the twinkling of an eye, I saw the black shape of the whale-boat cast high into the air on the crest of the breaking wave.  Then—­a shock of water, a wild rush of boiling foam, and I was clinging for my life to the shroud, ay, swept straight out from it like a flag in a gale.

We were pooped.

The wave passed.  It seemed to me that I was under water for minutes—­really it was seconds.  I looked forward.  The blast had torn out the great sail, and high in the air it was fluttering away to leeward like a huge wounded bird.  Then for a moment there was comparative calm, and in it I heard Job’s voice yelling wildly, “Come here to the boat.”

Bewildered and half-drowned as I was, I had the sense to rush aft.  I felt the dhow sinking under me—­she was full of water.  Under her counter the whale-boat was tossing furiously, and I saw the Arab Mahomed, who had been steering, leap into her.  I gave one desperate pull at the tow-rope to bring the boat alongside.  Wildly I sprang also, Job caught me by the arm and I rolled into the bottom of the boat.  Down went the dhow bodily, and as she did so Mahomed drew his curved knife and severed the fibre-rope by which we were fast to her, and in another second we were driving before the storm over the place where the dhow had been.

“Great God!” I shrieked, “where is Leo? Leo!  Leo!”

“He’s gone, sir, God help him!” roared Job into my ear; and such was the fury of the squall that his voice sounded like a whisper.

I wrung my hands in agony.  Leo was drowned, and I was left alive to mourn him.

“Look out,” yelled Job; “here comes another.”

I turned; a second huge wave was overtaking us.  I half hoped that it would drown me.  With a curious fascination I watched its awful advent.  The moon was nearly hidden now by the wreaths of the rushing storm, but a little light still caught the crest of the devouring breaker.  There was something dark on it—­a piece of wreckage.  It was on us now, and the boat was nearly full of water.  But she was built in air-tight compartments—­Heaven bless the man who invented them!—­and lifted up through it like a swan.  Through the foam and turmoil I saw the black thing on the wave hurrying right at me.  I put out my right arm to ward it from me, and my hand closed on another arm, the wrist of which my fingers gripped like a vice.  I am a very strong man, and had something to hold to, but my arm was nearly torn from its socket by the strain and weight of the floating body.  Had the rush lasted another two seconds I might either have let go or gone with it.  But it passed, leaving us up to our knees in water.