"I was fortunate enough to secure an oar, and working gradually to leeward of the wreck, with great exertion at length got aboard, where, to my joy, I found my father. The boat still floated bottom upwards, with five men upon the keel, who were constantly lashed by the cold waves, till presently a larger wave than the others broke the hold of two of the men, and washed them into eternity. Gradually in the swirl and foam of the mighty waters the boat beat round to the leeward of the ship, and I then saw that the men on the keel were my two cousins and brother. They could all swim, and seeing that my father and I were ready with ropes, quitted their precarious seat on the keel, and struck out towards the ship. My brother and cousin Phillipe, after a terrible struggle, were drawn aboard, but Gabriel, who could not swim so strongly, presently became exhausted and cried out for a rope. The distance appeared too far to fling it, but with a powerful swing my father threw the coil, the end of which fell a yard short of the swimmer. If I live a thousand years I shall never forget the look of despair upon my cousin's face as he sank back in the water completely exhausted. As his head disappeared his hand, like an eagle's claw, came above the surface of the water and gave one wild clutch at the rope which should have proved his salvation, then it disappeared also, and he was no more. "Thus, out of eleven men, only four were saved. Incredible as it may seem, these were all of them relatives--my brother, father, cousin, and self--it was quite a family party. We were taken off the wreck in the afternoon by another boat and safely landed. Ducas was a lucky name that day, and so it proved three years after, for my brother was the _only_ survivor when his fishing boat was run down, and a crew of eight men perished." Seeing that we had just had one melancholy recital I thought it best to start something more pleasant, so I handed Alec a large mug of coffee, and said: "Take a drink, my comrade, and while you are slaking your thirst I will spin you a drinking story." Then I recounted to him the story of Count Tilly of Brabant, and the Holy Prior. How, during one of Tilly's numerous campaigns, a certain town held out far too long for the general's liking, but at last it was forced to surrender. Tilly had six of the chief men brought before him, and commanded, as the town had laughed at his terms, that they should die, to expiate the rest of the citizens. All kinds of conditions were laid before him to avoid the doom of these unfortunate men, but they were of no avail with him; he was implacable. One, Prior Hirsch, sought him and tried to melt his adamantine heart, and being a man of experience with human foibles, concluded to try the effect of some of the good old wine for which the country is famous, and his own monastery in particular. A huge flagon being introduced, filled with some of the very "A1" of the district, Tilly was induced to try some.