Then fearful noises as of torrents were heard from the sea; the mists of
the morning were swept away and the storm was upon us.

The vessel was now in deadly peril, and ere long what we had feared took
place. The cables on her bows snapped, and she was dashed upon the rocks
half a cable's length from the shore. A cry of grief burst from every
breast.

Paul was about to fling himself into the sea, when I seized him by the
arm.

"Oh. let me go to her rescue," he cried, "or let me die!"

I tied a rope round his waist, and he advanced toward the ship,
sometimes walking, sometimes swimming. He hoped to get on board the
vessel, for the sea in its irregular movements left her almost dry. But
presently it returned with redoubled fury, and the unhappy Paul was
hurled back upon the shore, bleeding, bruised, and senseless.

The ship was now going to pieces, and the despairing crew were flinging
themselves into the sea. On the stern gallery stood Virginia, stretching
out her arms towards the lover who sought to save her. When he was
thrust back she waved her hand towards us, as if bidding us an eternal
farewell.

One sailor remained with her, striving to persuade her to undress and
try to swim ashore. With a dignified gesture she repelled him. Then a
prodigious mountain of water swept towards the vessel. The sailor sprang
off, and was carried ashore. Virginia vanished from our sight.