How long we laboured thus I can hardly say. It must have been three weeks or more before we breasted Ushant; and by that time the water was gaining on us in the hold, and our victuals had fallen short. Whether we liked it or not, we must try to make Brest, and Heaven would need to work a miracle on our behalf if we were to do that. Our captain, brave man as he was, lost courage when he found the water coming higher in the hold, and saw the _Misericorde_ labour harder with every new wave and ship more water each time than the last. As for the men, they gave up the labour at the pumps in despair, and took to what liquor they could find to drown their terrors. But Ludar alone never lost heart or head. He took charge of the deserted helm, and bade the seamen cut away spars and throw over cargo. And they obeyed him, as they would their captain, and plucked up a little spirit at sight of his courage. "Humphrey," said he, on a night when, although the gale was slackening fast, it was plain, even to him, the end of this voyage was near, "your master will need to wait for his type. Come and stand by me here, for there is nothing else to be done for the brave ship now. I would have liked to save her for the sake of one who once stood at this very helm. But it seems to me we are near our last plunge." "Perhaps," said I, "God has not done with us yet, and those who pray for us pray not in vain." Here the _Misericorde_ reeled upwards on a huge wave. For a moment she hung quivering on the top, and then plunged into the trough. I felt Ludar's hand on my arm, and caught sight of his face, steady and stern, with a flash in his eyes as he looked ahead. He was right. It was the _Misericorde's_ last plunge; for, instead of righting herself, she seemed entangled in the water, and, like one who writhes to get free, heeled half over on her side. Then, before she could recover, up came the next wave, towering high over our heads, and fell like a mountain upon us. The next thing I was aware of was that I was clinging to a spar in the water, with a strong arm around me, and a voice in my ear: "Hold on, hold on!" Then, when I opened my eyes, I saw Ludar and some floating timbers, and nothing more. But towards one of these timbers he was striking out desperately, which proved to be a small boat, bottom uppermost, which had lain on the deck, and which having been wrenched from its cords, had floated free of the wreck. Between us we reached it, and, with much labour, turned it over. It had neither oars nor sail. Yet, as we clung to it, we could see it was sound of bottom, and would at least hold the two of us. How we got in, I know not; yet, I think, between two waves, Ludar steadied it while I got in, and then between the next two, I hauled him in. At first, it seemed, in this cockleshell, we were little better off than clinging to the spar, for every wave threatened to swamp it. Yet by God's mercy it carried us somehow.