They cannot remain doing nothing, although they feel fully assured that all they attempt must be in vain; they haul with all their power on the cable to try and get nearer to the ship when they might sheer down upon the poor fellow; but the sea is raging over them as much as ever, and they cannot get the boat to move at all; the waves rush over the boat in rapid succession, and as they do so the men have to crouch down and cling with all their force to the thwarts, and struggle hard to prevent being washed out of her. As each sea passes, up they spring and again try to haul in the cable; the poor drowning sailor is ahead of the boat, on the starboard bow; if the line which he has round his waist were only a few fathoms longer he might be saved; it would be madness for any of the boatmen to jump overboard to get at him, they would be instantly swept astern of the boat, without a hope of saving him, and at great and useless risk of their own lives; they try and throw the lead-line over the rope which holds the poor fellow; hoping that if they can succeed in doing so, that he may manage to get hold of it, and loosing himself from the rope which fastens him to the ship, be hauled on board the boat; but the boat is pitching and tossing so much that it is hard work attempting to throw the line, but again and again they make the effort. "Now he rises on a wave: now try; heave with a will, well clear of his head. Ah! missed again; look out, hold on all;" a wave rushes over them, boat and all; another half-minute and they make another attempt; no! all in vain, each time it falls short; the struggle cannot last long; strong and young as the man is, his strength cannot possibly endure long in such a conflict; his cries grow more feeble and soon cease; they see him try and get back to the ship, climbing up the rope, but his strength fails, and he falls back; his arms and legs are still tossed wildly about, but it is by the action of the waves; his head drops and sinks; yes! it is all over!--all over! with him; and it is with intense sorrow that the boatmen realize that all hope of saving him is at an end--that he is dead. CHAPTER XXIII. HARDLY SAVED. "Much would it please you sometimes to explore The peaceful dwellings of our borough poor; To view a sailor just returned from sea, His wife beside, a child on either knee, And others crowding near, that none may lose The smallest portion of the welcome news.... The trembling children look with steadfast eyes, And panting, sob involuntary sighs; And sleep awhile his torpid touch delays, And all is joy, and piety, and praise." _Crabbe._ The second mate and cabin-boy still remain on board the wreck; they have watched with the greatest horror and dread the terrible death of the chief mate, and are themselves almost in absolute despair.