CHAPTER XXI.

THE STORM.

Ir is the afternoon of the day on which the Mermaid was to arrive in Dublin Bay, and many hearts are anxious for the fate of the gallant little yacht that had so often merrily breasted the foaming waves of the Irish Channel. The wind had blown hard during the night, by the morning it had increased to a hurricane ; huge waves with snowy crests were dashing wildly on the shore, and the howling of the gale sounded loud and mournfully as each fresh gust drove the dark storm clouds in lowering masses across the threatening-looking sky.

All hoped that the little yacht had made for some friendly haven, where it was safely sheltered from the fury of the gale; but late in the afternoon it was reported, and alas! with only too much truth, that the Mermaid was descried in the offing, bravely struggling with and exposed to the whole violence of the storm!

Hastily I repaired to the harbour at Kingstown, which was the usual anchorage of the yacht; and there I found the shore thronged with many anxious observers, all gazing mournfully in the direction of the

little vessel, which was one moment lifted high on a crested wave, and the next sunk so low in the swelling waters as completely to hide her from our sight. I accosted a sailor who had been watching her attentively.

"Is there no doubt of its being the Mermaid?" I inquired. "May it not be some other yacht?"

"It's the little Mermaid sure enough," he replied; "I knows her by the cut on her, but she may weather it yet, though her chance is but small." And he shook his head despondingly as he looked at the boiling surge, and shrunk before a gust of wind that nearly took us off our feet.

A light touch rested on my arm; I turned hastily round, and Nelly O'Brien stood beside me, her frail form shrinking before the angry blast.

"Nelly!" I exclaimed, "you here!"

"I have been here some time," she replied softly. "Walton is with me," pointing to her maid, who stood at a short distance. "Oh, Charley! do you think I could remain quietly at home and know that he was exposed to such a storm as this? I knew he was to return to-day, but oh, Charley! when I look on that raging sea, my heart dies within me.”

"Nelly, darling!" I replied, soothingly, "you must not stay here. Let me take you to the hotel, and I will bring you the very earliest intelligence. It will kill you to remain exposed to weather like this, besides the harrowing uncertainty you must undergo."

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"Let me remain," she murmured, in a choked voice; “I can stand everything-everything but losing him. Oh God! if this should be! And we parted in anger!"

The Mermaid was still gallantly maintaining its way, but the gale was every instant increasing in fury, and even the most ignorant could not avoid perceiving that unless some immediate change took place, the doom of the little yacht and its unfortunate crew was inevitably fixed. No boat could live in such a sea; the bravest among those brave sailors knew that the attempt would be perfect madness, certain death to themselves, without a chance of assisting the helpless

crew.

Nearer came the yacht-and nearer; and now we could plainly see how it rose and fell in that fierce sea, how each dashing wave rushed over it, and the eddying gust bent it almost to the water's edge, from which it slowly and feebly recovered itself.

Nelly clung to me with frantic gestures.

Oh, Charley, Charley, can nothing be done? Must we see him perish before our eyes?"

I shook my head in mute despair. It was very terrible to watch that struggling vessel, to think whom it contained, and know oneself to be utterly powerless.

"A boat, Charley!" she urged, in her wild anguish. "Oh, cannot a boat be sent to their assistance?"

"It would be instant destruction," I replied. "No boat could live in that surf-oh! merciful Heaven! she's gone-no-oh no!"

"She's righted again," shouted many voices.

The yacht had yielded to the force of an overwhelming wave, and for a moment we thought it had disappeared for ever; but another minute beheld it bravely battling yet, and a cheer of satisfaction burst from the beholders.

It was now so near that we could faintly distin

guish the figures of its crew, who had apparently lost all command of their little vessel and had lashed themselves to the masts and sides to save themselves from being swept overboard by the waves which every moment rushed over the yacht from stem to stern.

Every effort was made by those on shore to render them assistance. Rockets with lines attached to them were fired in the direction of the yacht, but the immense force of the wind drove them all wide of the mark, and the attempt to communicate with them in this manner was at length reluctantly abandoned.

Nelly had sunk upon her knees on the wet ground, her head buried in her hands as though she could not gaze upon the fearful scene.

Once she lifted her stony countenance, beautiful even in all its despair and ghastly whiteness.

"Sailors!" she pleaded in hollow accents, "will none of you try to save them? I am rich, and gold untold shall be theirs who will venture to their aid. Can you see them perish in your very sight?" and she feebly wrung her hands as she urged her vain petition. "Poor young thing!" muttered a weather-beaten sailor, "she'll have a brother or sweetheart aboard the yacht. God have mercy on him, for she'll never see him more !"

"Is there no hope? Can nothing be done?" she screamed, starting wildly to her feet. "Charley, is

there no hope?"

I could not answer her, and turned away my head. ""Tis a hard trial, Miss," said the old sailor, feelingly, "and ye are but young to bear it. Poor thing! poor thing!"

"Will you not try to save them?" she gasped, looking wildly in his face.

""Tis not in human power," he replied solemnly. There are brave men here who would dare all that can be dared to save those poor drowning creatures; but to launch a boat in a sea like this would be a tempting of Providence."

There had been a momentary lull in the rage of the tempest, that deceptive lull that usually precedes a renewed and fiercer transport of fury; and at this moment, with a low wailing noise, came a hurricane so violent that few were able to resist it. The old sailor and I supported the half-fainting Nelly, when at this instant a low murmur burst from the spectators, and hastily gazing at the foaming sea, I perceived the yacht caught in the full fury of the resistless gale.

The gallant little Mermaid! Again and again she struggled against the overpowering force of the storm, now sunk in the trough of the sea, now raised high on a mountainous wave; then came a yet fiercer-yet more terrible gust; a wave of tremendous size struck her on the side-she toppled heavily over-over all the uproar of the elements came that wild, despairing cry of drowning men. I pressed my hand over my eyes to shut out the agonizing spectacle-groans of horror and sobs of compassion sounded on every side -the dirge of the ill-fated Mermaid and her hapless

crew.

Alas! alas! where now is the gallant little vessel ? One hurried glance I gave to the spot where the yacht had been. "Nevermore! nevermore!—oh ! Percy, Percy!"

"Look to the young lady," said the old sailor, gently touching me. "Break it to her kindly, poor thing. Bid her pray for their souls."

for their souls." He rubbed the