While I clung to a bit of rigging and tried to get my breath I realized but one thing clearly—that the ship was afloat again. An earthquake more severe than any that had previously occurred had split the two rocks asunder and allowed her to slide into the sea. But where were we now? And where were the Faytans? It takes a good deal to phase Captain Steele. Even while I stood marveling my father had grasped the wheel, and, as our rudder and screw had been fully repaired the aimless pitching of the ship was rectified as soon as her head was brought to the wind and she faced the waves. Then suddenly the sky brightened sufficiently for us to see one another again. In the bow stood huddled a group of nearly a dozen Faytan warriors, while our men were scattered here and there clinging to whatever support they could find. I found that Joe wasn’t a dozen yards away from me. The _Seagull_ was floating serenely on a rather turbulent sea and the coast of Faytan was a quarter of a mile on our lee. We stared at the warriors a moment, and they stared at us. Then with one accord we all made an advance toward the savages, determined to settle the fight the first thing we did. They did not wait for us, but leaped the rail into the sea and began swimming toward their island. “Let ’em go!” shouted my father. “And some of you get busy and toss those bodies overboard. Where’s the firemen? Step lively, lads, and get up steam as soon as the Lord’ll let you.” The men gave a cheer and responded with alacrity. We stripped all the pearl ornaments from the dead natives that cluttered the deck, and afterward threw the bodies overboard. During this operation I came upon Señor de Jiminez seated in the scupper with his back to the bulwark and sobbing like a baby. “Is anything wrong, sir?” I asked anxiously. “No—no! Everything is right,” he answered. “We are saved—the revolution is saved! Hurrah for the revolution!” Joy affects some people that way, but I have no patience with men who cry. We got up steam presently, but found the _Seagull_ was leaking like a sieve. It took all the power of our engines to keep the pumps going; so my father ordered sail hoisted, and as the wind had moderated to a stiff breeze we were soon bowling along with the mainsail and jib set. The mizzenmast had gone by the board at the time of the wreck. My father’s face wore an anxious expression and he called Uncle Naboth and me into the cabin for a consultation. “We can keep afloat this way for a time—perhaps for days, if the leaks don’t get worse,” he said; “but it’s foolish to take such chances. There are islands near by, I’m sure. Shall we stop at the first one we sight?” “H-m. It might prove to be another Faytan,” said my uncle, doubtfully. “I’ve had enough fighting to last me for a while.” “Wait a moment,” said I. “I want to get Bry.” “What for?” demanded my father. “He’s the only one aboard who knows these seas,” I replied.