Deeper and deeper the blackness came rushing down upon us, an angry ridge of foam before it--the white squall showing its teeth.
Guy took the old man by the arm, and pointed to an object to leeward that none on board had remarked yet. It was a small _barca_ with four men in it. They were Capriotes, as we found afterward, the boldest boatmen in the Bay. Had they been pure-bred Neapolitans, they would have been down on their faces long ago, screaming out prayers to a long muster-roll of saints. As it was, they stood manfully to their oars, straining every muscle to reach us; there was no other safety for them then. "They will never get alongside in time, unless we bear down to meet them," Livingstone said, "and what chance will they have in ten minutes hence?"
Riddell was only half satisfied. His creed evidently was that a sailor's first duty is to his own ship; but neither he nor any one else ever argued with Guy. "As you like, sir," he grumbled, somewhat discontentedly. "Keep her full, Saunders; we shall fetch them so."
If a stitch of sail had been taken off our vessel she could never have reached the _barca_, though her crew strove hard to meet us. She forged down slowly enough as it was, but we were just in time to take them on board.
"Reef every thing now!" Riddell shouted, leaping himself first into the rigging like a wild-cat. "Cheerily, men--with a will!" All his ill-humor was gone when the peril became imminent.
We were strong-handed, and the four Capriotes did us seaman's service; but it was "touch and go." The last man had scarcely reached the deck when the line of foam was within half-cable's length. Then there came a sound unlike any I had ever heard before in the elements, beginning with a whistling sort of scream and deepening into a roar as of many angry voices, bestial and human, striving for the mastery; and then the _Petrel_ staggered and reeled over almost on her beam-ends, in the midst of a white boiling caldron of mad water. She recovered herself, however, quickly, quivering and trembling as a live creature might do after severe punishment; and we drove on, the strong arms at the wheel keeping her well before the blast. In a very few minutes, I suppose (though it seemed very long), I heard old Riddell say, "Sharp while it lasted, Mr. Livingstone; but they're right to call it a squall. They've nothing down here-away like a good right down hard gale."