They had not long to wait.  The size of the wave, before it came near enough to be seen, was indicated by its solemn, deep-toned, ever-increasing roar.  The captain stood at the wheel himself, guiding the brig and glancing back from time to time uneasily.

Suddenly the volcano gave vent to its fourth and final explosion.  It was not so violent as its predecessors had been, though more so than any that had occurred on the day before, and the light of it showed them the full terrors of their situation, for it revealed the mountains of Java—­apparently quite close in front, though in reality at a considerable distance—­with a line of breakers beating white on the shore.  But astern of them was the most appalling sight, for there, rushing on with awful speed and a sort of hissing roar, came the monstrous wave, emerging, as it were, out of thick darkness, like a mighty wall of water with a foaming white crest, not much less—­according to an average of the most reliable estimates—­than 100 feet high.

Well might the seamen blanch, for never before in all their varied experience had they seen the like of that.

On it came with the unwavering force of Fate.  To the eye of Captain Roy it appeared that up its huge towering side no vessel made by mortal man could climb.  But the captain had too often stared death in the face to be unmanned by the prospect now.  Steadily he steered the vessel straight on, and in a quiet voice said—­

“Lay hold of something firm—­every man!”

The warning was well timed.  In the amazement, if not fear, caused by the unwonted sight, some had neglected the needful precaution.

As the billow came on, the bubbling, leaping, and seething of its crest was apparent both to eye and ear.  Then the roar became tremendous.

“Darling Winnie,” said Nigel at that moment.  “I will die for you or with you!”

The poor girl heard, but no sign of appreciation moved her pale face as she gazed up at the approaching chaos of waters.

Next moment the brig seemed to stand on its bows.  Van der Kemp had placed his daughter against the mast, and, throwing his long arms round both, held on.  Nigel, close to them, had grasped a handful of ropes, and every one else was holding on for life.  Another moment and the brig rose as if it were being tossed up to the heavens.  Immediately thereafter it resumed its natural position in a perfect wilderness of foam.  They were on the summit of the great wave, which was so large that its crest seemed like a broad, rounded mass of tumbling snow with blackness before and behind, while the roar of the tumult was deafening.  The brig rushed onward at a speed which she had never before equalled even in the fiercest gale—­tossed hither and thither by the leaping foam, yet always kept going straight onward by the expert steering of her captain.

“Come aft—­all of you!” he shouted, when it was evident that the vessel was being borne surely forward on the wave’s crest.  “The masts will go for certain when we strike.”