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Chapter 8 - THE SOUL OF NUMBER 13
Scarcely had the Ithaca cleared the reef which lies almost across the mouth of the
little harbor where she had been moored for so many months than the tempest
broke upon her in all its terrific fury. Bududreen was no mean sailor, but he was
short handed, nor is it reasonable to suppose that even with a full crew he could
have weathered the terrific gale which beat down upon the hapless vessel.
Buffeted by great waves, and stripped of every shred of canvas by the force of the
mighty wind that howled about her, the Ithaca drifted a hopeless wreck soon after
the storm struck her.
Below deck the terrified girl clung desperately to a stanchion as the stricken ship
lunged sickeningly before the hurricane. For half an hour the awful suspense
endured, and then with a terrific crash the vessel struck, shivering and trembling
from stem to stern.
Virginia Maxon sank to her knees in prayer, for this she thought must surely be
the end. On deck Bududreen and his crew had lashed themselves to the masts,
and as the Ithaca struck the reef before the harbor, back upon which she had
been driven, the tall poles with their living freight snapped at the deck and went
overboard carrying every thing with them amid shrieks and cries of terror that
were drowned and choked by the wild tumult of the night.
Twice the girl felt the ship strike upon the reef, then a great wave caught and
carried her high into the air, dropping her with a nauseating lunge which seemed
to the imprisoned girl to be carrying the ship to the very bottom of the ocean.
With closed eyes she clung in silent prayer beside her berth waiting for the
moment that would bring the engulfing waters and oblivion--praying that the end
might come speedily and release her from the torture of nervous apprehension
that had terrorized her for what seemed an eternity.
After the last, long dive the Ithaca righted herself laboriously, wallowing
drunkenly, but apparently upon an even keel in less turbulent waters. One long
minute dragged after another, yet no suffocating deluge poured in upon the girl,
and presently she realized that the ship had, at least temporarily, weathered the
awful buffeting of the savage elements. Now she felt but a gentle roll, though the
wild turmoil of the storm still came to her ears through the heavy planking of the
Ithaca's hull.
For a long hour she lay wondering what fate had overtaken the vessel and
whither she had been driven, and then, with a gentle grinding sound, the ship
stopped, swung around, and finally came to rest with a slight list to starboard.
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