Presently a new peril arose. One after another the cannons on the deck broke away from their fastenings, rolled hither and thither, and burst through the bulwarks into the sea. Four of them in succession were lost in this way, carrying with them the great iron kettle, which was large enough to cook for the whole ship's company and passengers at once. The fifth cannon, in rolling about, loosened the hatch, then broke away from its own carriage, and fell through on to the lower deck, where it alighted on a large chest belonging to Captain Wiederhold, and containing wine, spirits, mustard, vinegar, and the like. The chest and its contents flew into a thousand pieces, but the fall of the gun was broken, and the hull of the brig escaped injury.
The sixth cannon, however, was still running about the after-deck just over the cabin. It had already smashed the wheel and everything else that came in its way. Four of the sailors could or would work no longer, and lay helpless in their bunks. None of the others would go near the cannon, for fear of being crushed. The soldiers were lying about sighing, weeping, or praying. The lieutenant-colonel was too sick to do anything. Wiederhold tried to encourage the men, and told them that God, who had brought them into this great danger, could also bring them out of it, if they would do their part, and try in the first place to get the cannon overboard, and then work at the pumps and keep the ship afloat until morning; when, perhaps, Heaven would lend them aid, and either give them better weather or send a ship to their assistance.
Wiederhold's entreaties were useless at first. Some
