The slow tide lifted them higher and higher within their cage, hiding some of the baleful sights but giving them wider view over the whole grim field. They sat, and by way of change stood and lay, on their cramped platform. They knocked off shell-fish and ate them. So far, so water-sodden had they been of late, they had not suffered from thirst, but the dread of it was with them. Then, slowly, the waters sank, and all the bristling bones of ships came up again. "Can you swim?" asked Macro abruptly at last. "I can. But I feel very weak. I can't go far I'm afraid." "We can't stop on here." "Where shall we go?" "Over yonder. They're thickest there and they stand out more. Mebbe it's shallower that way." "I'll do my best to follow you. If I can't, you go on." "Nay. You gave me a hand last night. We'll stick together, and sooner we start the better.... Stay ... mebbe we can----" and he began pounding at the end planks of their raft with his foot to start them from the cross-pieces. "'Twas the roof of the galley," he explained, "and none too well made. It got stove in last voyage and we rigged this one up ourselves. My wonder is it held together in the night." He managed at last with much stamping to loosen four boards. "One under each arm will help," he said, "An' we can paddle along an' not get tired." He let himself down into the water, shipped a board under each arm, and struck out between two of the gaunt ribs, and Wulfrey followed him, somewhat doubtful as to what might come of it. But the mate had taken his bearings and was following a reasoned course. Over yonder the wrecks lay thick. There might be one on which they could find shelter--even food. But that he hardly dared to hope for. As far as he had been able to judge, at that distance, they were all wrecks of long ago and mostly only bare ribs and stumps. To Wulfrey, from water-level, the sea ahead seemed all abristle with shipping, as thick, he thought to himself, as the docks at Liverpool. But there all was life and bustling activity, and here was only death,---dead ships and pieces of ships, and maybe dead men. The feeling of it was upon them both, and they splashed slowly along with as little noise as possible, as though they feared to rouse the sleepers who had once peopled all these gruesome ruins. "See yon!" whispered Macro hoarsely, as he slowed up and waited for Wulfrey to come alongside, and following the jerk of his head Wulf saw the figure of a man grotesquely spread-eagled in a vast tangle of cordage that hung like a net from a broken mast. "We had better see," said Wulfrey, and kicked along towards it, the mate following with visible reluctance. It was the body of Jock Steele, the carpenter, livid and sodden, and many hours dead. "I would we hadna seen him," growled Macro. "He'll do us no harm. He was a decent man. I'm sorry he's gone. Is there any chance of any of the others being alive?" "Deil a chance!" "Still, we are----"