"Jack and I will give them a shot to pay for that while the rest of ye get ready the long boat," said the captain, sternly. But it was a fatal delay, for scarcely had Long Tom been sighted e'er in a mad swirl of waters the lugger plunged to her watery grave--down, down, down, dragging, in her deadly, downgoing eddy, captain and crew. Ande had the sound of many waters in his ears, and kicked desperately to free himself of its deadly influence. Then, after an interminable time, to his joy he felt himself going upward, upward and upward. His lungs felt like bursting under the terrible strain. Could he hold out until he reached the surface? He made another desperate downward kick and joy,--his head shot above the surface--but--nothing visible but the dark, tossing waters and the pale stars o'erhead. Stay! There was a dark mass but a yard or so away and a form. He drifted nearer. He shouted and a hand grasped him and drew him up on a floating piece of deck timber. "Dick." "Ande." Two simultaneous shouts, but that was all, as these two friends of school day life floated together on the loosened spar. Then after a time: "Didst see the captain or any of the crew?" "All drowned, no doubt," said Dick. Then there was more silence. Dick was a famous swimmer, but clung to the spar reserving his strength for the future; Ande was less expert in the swimming art and his wound and exposure was gradually weakening his grasp. It was now past midnight. "Dick, do'ee think the cutter will pick us up?" "Hardly; you see, she can't do much with her mainmast gone, and then the tide is ebbing." Hours passed and the sickening sense of weakness became stronger and stronger, and that weary, pallid expression, the presage of unconsciousness, swept o'er Ande's countenance and remained there. It was Dick who realised it first, and he flung his own great arms o'er those of Ande, binding him to the spar with his own strength. "Hold on. Don't give in." "Dick, I was shot in the arm coming down the cliff, and I think that's what's making me weak." "Weather it out until daylight and we shall be picked up. Some one is bound to see us." "Dick, do 'ee think we did right in warning the smugglers?" asked Ande, weakly. "Aye," said Dick, stoutly; "they were honest men trying to earn a living." "Because,--you see--you'll get through all right, but I--I'm getting weaker every minute, and I can't hold out much longer--and a fellow thinks of these things when he hasn't long to live." "Nonsense, we'll both pull through all right. Pluck up courage." Then as he noticed a piece of rope attached to the spar, "I do believe I'm still a dull'ead. Here we 'ave been floating in danger of falling off through weakness every moment and there is the means of our salvation." He plucked out a knife from his pocket and severed the rope at the end from the spar and passing it around Ande and himself securely lashed themselves to the float.