"Man the pumps," said Bell, briefly. "There's no danger," he added, in a quiet voice. "There's timber enough in her to float us if she fills flush-up." All had occurred so quickly as to be almost impossible of realisation. Ten minutes before the ancient yacht had been ploughing staunchly to windward in the teeth of what had become a hard blow. The tearing out of a cubic foot or so of dry-rotted stem and she was become a dismasted, sinking hulk. Even her boats were gone, those not crushed by the falling spars having been torn to splinters by the writhing shrouds. Of all her people it was hardest, perhaps, for Huntington Wood to appreciate this violent change of condition, the others having lived most of their lives afloat. Cécile, after her first frightened outburst, had got herself in hand and was huddled among the cushions of the transome, white but silent. "You say she will float?" Wood asked of Bell. "Yes ... but she's goin' to be deuced uncomfortable, once she's a-wash. She must have spewed out her caulking from the wrenchin' on the maststeps, and like as not she's opened up along the garboard-strake. But we don't need to worry. Somebody'll sight us through the day. This place is like the corner of Fifth Avenue and Twenty-third Street. Cheer up, girls ... and Heldstrom is goin' to pull around all right, you see. I'll take a peep below. Steward, push your eyes back into your head and get me a lantern!" But nothing did sight the _Shark_ throughout the day, and nightfall found her very deep. She was drifting sluggishly in a northwesterly direction, but, waterlogged as she was, this drift was very slight. All hands had slaved unceasingly at the pumps. Bell, the grouty valetudinarian, was the pillar of strength upon whom all had come to lean. He had got a wipe across the forehead from a wire shroud and this had plentifully bled him and done him a world of good. Certain ones of the crew had wished to knock together a life-raft, but Bell answered: "This hulk is the best raft. She'll float you till this place freezes, and then you can skate ashore. Carpenter, empty all the fresh-water tanks. The scuttle butt will last until we leave her and the tanks will float a lot of weight." After dark Heldstrom regained consciousness. He was still lying in the saloon, and Hermione was crouching at his head. Heldstrom's first words were: "Are ve filling?" "Yes," answered Hermione, gently, "but there is no danger. Papa says that she will float." Heldstrom fought for a minute to get his breath. "She vill or she vill not. Your fadder figured it out, und he is a navy expert und dey are generally wr'rong. T'eoretically she might float; practically, she might not. Your fadder figures on der floating power of vood, not of punk. Tell him to fire some rockets...." And he lost consciousness again.