Coming to Port
Between her and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many good ships have from time to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from its present direction, it would be quite impossible that this ship should find the entrance of the harbour.
It was now nearly the hour of high tide. The waves were still great, and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with such speed that, in the words of one old sailor, 'she must end up somewhere, if only in hell'. Then came another rush of sea-fog, greater than any hitherto, a mass of dank mist, which seemed to close on all things like a gray pall. The rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the harbour mouth across the East Pier, where the crash was expected, and men waited breathlessly.