Shortly after nine in the evening the soundings taken every quarter of an hour showed constantly decreasing depth. All crowded to the deck. The water became deeper. It was concluded that the vessel had passed over the extremity of the sand-banks seen at sunset, and all rejoiced at escape from danger. When the depth increased, Cook and all but the officers of the watch retired to their berths, but at eleven o'clock the sounding-line, after indicating twenty fathoms, suddenly recorded seventeen, and before it was possible to cast anchor, the _Endeavour_ had touched, and beaten by the waves, struck upon a rock. The situation was a serious one. The _Endeavour_, raised by a wave over the ridge of a reef, had fallen again into a hollow in the rock, and by the moonlight, portions of the false keel and the sheathing could be seen floating. Unfortunately the accident happened at high water. It was useless therefore to count upon the assistance of the tide to release the ship. Without loss of time the guns, barrels, casks, ballast, and all that could lighten the vessel, were thrown overboard. The vessel still struck against the rock. The sloop was put to sea, the sails and topsails were lowered, the tow-lines were thrown to the starboard, and the captain was about to order the anchor to be cast on the same side, when it was discovered that the water was deeper at the stern. But although the capstan was vigorously worked, it was impossible to move the vessel. Daybreak disclosed the position in all its horrors. Land was eight leagues distant, not a single isle was visible between the ship and land where refuge might be found if, as was to be feared, the vessel broke up. Although she had been lightened of fifty tons weight, the sea only gained a foot and a half. Fortunately the wind fell, otherwise the _Endeavour_ must soon have been a wreck. However, the leak increased rapidly, although the pumps were worked incessantly. A third was put into action. The alternative was dreadful! If the vessel were freed, it must sink when no longer sustained by the rock, while if it remained fixed, it must be demolished by the waves which rent its planks asunder. The boats were too small to carry all the crew to land at one time. Under such circumstances was there not danger that discipline would be thrown to the winds? Who could tell whether a fratricidal struggle might not ensue? And even should some of the sailors reach land, what fate could be in store for them upon an inhospitable shore, where nets and fire-arms would scarcely procure them nourishment? What would become of those who were obliged to remain on board? Every one shared these fears, but so strong a sense of duty prevailed, so much was the captain beloved by his crew, that the terrors of the situation evoked no single cry, no disorder of any kind. The strength of the men not employed at the pumps was wisely harboured for the moment when their fate should be decided.