raging with resistless force. The cable snapped like a thread.

The anchor lay at the bottom of the sea. At the cutwater there remained
but the cable end protruding from the hawse-hole.

From this moment the hooker became a wreck. The _Matutina_ was
irrevocably disabled. The vessel, just before in full sail, and almost
formidable in her speed, was now helpless. All her evolutions were
uncertain and executed at random. She yielded passively and like a log
to the capricious fury of the waves. That in a few minutes there should
be in place of an eagle a useless cripple, such a transformation is to
be witnessed only at sea.

The howling of the wind became more and more frightful. A hurricane has
terrible lungs; it makes unceasingly mournful additions to darkness,
which cannot be intensified. The bell on the sea rang despairingly, as
if tolled by a weird hand.

The _Matutina_ drifted like a cork at the mercy of the waves. She sailed
no longer--she merely floated. Every moment she seemed about to turn
over on her back, like a dead fish. The good condition and perfectly
water-tight state of the hull alone saved her from this disaster. Below
the water-line not a plank had started. There was not a cranny, chink,
nor crack; and she had not made a single drop of water in the hold. This
was lucky, as the pump, being out of order, was useless.

The hooker pitched and roared frightfully in the seething billows. The
vessel had throes as of sickness, and seemed to be trying to belch forth
the unhappy crew.