It is to be hoped not, and that you never will be in such jeopardy as that in which Mark Vandean found himself as the pale, soft moonlight was suddenly shut out from sight, and he went down into the black darkness, too much startled and confused to grasp his position and make a calm, matter-of-fact attempt to save his life. He was conscious of receiving a kick, which sent him lower, and then of rising and striking his head against something hard. This blow roused him into action, and, realising in a flash that he had knocked his head against some portion of the boat, he struck out strongly, and the next moment was gazing around at the agitated water, and then made out, close at hand, what looked like the glistening back of some sea monster. It was only the imagination of the moment. Directly after he was swimming for it, seeing that it was the bottom of the capsized boat, about which the crew were clustering. Then a strong hand was stretched out to him, and he was drawn to the keel, Tom Fillot, who had rowed stroke oar, helping him to a good position. "Hold on a bit, sir, and we'll try and right her." "Yes," panted Mark. "Where's Mr Russell?" "Here," came rather faintly from the other side of the boat, accompanied by a fit of gasping and coughing. "All right now; I got under the boat. All here, my lads?" "Ay, ay, sir." "Then you one and all deserve a flogging," cried the second lieutenant, angrily. "What were you about to capsize the boat?" "Dunno, sir," said Tom Fillot, gruffly. "She went over all of her own sen." "Don't be an idiot, man." "Where's the black?" panted Mark, who had not yet got back to his regular breathing. "I have him, sir," said the coxswain, "but I don't think he's--" "Oh, don't say he's dead!" cried Mark. "Course not, sir, if you says I'm not," muttered the man; "but it strikes me as he was dead before he reached the sea. Some one seems to have hit him on the head." The lieutenant changed his position, so as to place himself alongside the coxswain, and then moved away again. "Dead?" whispered Mark, as he drew himself a little more on the bottom of the boat, and craned his neck towards his brother officer. Russell did not answer for the moment, but gravely bent his head. "The brutes!" he then said, softly; "and all this risk for nothing." Then aloud--"Now, my lads, quick. Swimmers. The oars." These words roused the little crew, which had been clinging to the keel, half lying on either side of the boat, as if there was nothing more to be done but wait for help but now three of the men at once quitted their hold, and began to swim about in search of the oars and other objects floating about in the glistening moonlight. "Never mind the hats, man," shouted the lieutenant. "The oars--the oars." This was to one of the sailors who had reached a straw hat and clapped it upon his head as he swam, but the same man recovered one of the oars and brought it alongside.