No longer breasting the storm with stubborn persistency, she now drifted aimlessly before wind and wave.
She was merely a larger plaything, tossed about by Titantic gambols.
The junk was burst asunder by the collision.

Her planks and cargo littered the waves, were even tossed in derision on to the decks of the _Sirdar_.

Of what avail was strong timber or bolted iron against the spleen of the unchained and formless monster who loudly proclaimed his triumph?
The great steamship drifted on through chaos.

The typhoon had broken the lance.
But brave men, skilfully directed, wrought hard to avert further disaster.

After the first moment of stupor, gallant British sailors risked life and limb to bring the vessel under control.
By their calm courage they shamed the paralyzed Lascars into activity.
A sail was rigged on the foremast, and a sea anchor hastily constructed as soon as it was discovered that the helm was useless.