make headway through the trough of the waters. She was straining her bulwarks, and although the huge sails were swelled by the heavy gale I could hear them flapping rhythmically, keeping time to the creaking sound of the boards and the beams. The engine too was puffing madly and the piston rod going in and out the cylinder was giving mighty thuds. All at once the ship was attacked by pirates—just like in the story I had been reading that very evening—only one of them had got over the matron, as Guillaume Chretien had done a fortnight ago, and she, poor thing, was sobbing and calling for help. Yes, I could hear her plainly, she was panting, wailing, almost screeching.
I thereupon seized a crowbar and ran to her help. Some one had rung the bell, the ship was on fire, I shrieked for help, I yelled…
There was a scuffle. The nurse was by my side almost throttling me, her eyes were out of her head, her hair all dishevelled, she was looking like a devil. A man appeared likewise by my bed.
148
