I let go the brake only when my companion was too exhausted to continue; but now, on sounding the well, we found that our labours had not decreased the water to the same extent as heretofore. It was impossible, however, to converse out of shelter; moreover, a fresh danger attended exposure on deck, for, in addition to the wild sweeping of green seas forward, to the indescribably violent motions of the barque, which threatened to break our heads or our limbs for us, to fling us bruised and senseless against the bulwarks if we relaxed for a moment our hold of what was next us--in addition to this, I say, there was now the deadly menace of the topgallant-mast, with its weight of yards, fiercely swinging and beating right over our heads, and poised there by the slender filaments of its rigging, which might part and let the whole mass fall at any moment. We entered the deck-house, and paused for a little while in its comparative silence and stagnation to exchange a few words. 'The water is gaining upon the ship, Mr. Tregarthen,' said Helga. 'I fear so,' I answered. 'If it should increase beyond the control of the pumps, what is to be done?' she asked. 'We are without boats.' 'What _can_ be done?' cried I. 'We shall have to make some desperate thrust for life--contrive something out of the hencoop--spare booms--whatever is to be found.' 'What chance--what chance have we in such a sea as this?' she exclaimed, clasping her hands and looking up at me with eyes large with emotion, though I found nothing of fear in the shining of them or in the working of her pale face. I had no answer to make. Indeed, it put a sort of feeling into the blood like madness itself even to _talk_ of a raft, with the sound in our ears of the sea that was raging outside. 'And then there is my father,' she continued, 'helpless--unable to move--how is he to be rescued? I would lose my life to save his. But what is to be done if this gale continues?' 'His experience should be of use to us,' said I. 'Let us go and talk with him.' She opened the door of the berth, halted, stared a minute, then turned to me with her forefinger upon her lip. I peered, and found the poor man fast asleep. I believed at first that he was dead, so still he lay, so easy was his countenance, so white too; but after watching a moment, I spied his breast rising and falling. Helga drew close and stood viewing him. A strange and moving sight was that swinging cot--the revelation of the deathlike head within, the swaying boyish figure of the daughter gazing with eyes of love, pity, distress at the sleeping, haggard face, as it came and went. She sat down beside me. 'I shall lose him soon,' said she. 'But what is killing him? He was white and poorly yesterday; but not ill as he is now.'