"But we have ropes, clothes, perhaps some few pieces of wreckage. Can nothing be done to repair it?" "Meaning that we draw lots to see who shall endeavor to escape to-night?" "The men might even do that." "Ah, yes--the men, of course. I think it hopeless. But, try it! Yes, certainly, try it!" A pause, more eloquent than the most impassioned speech, showed how this frail straw, eddying in the vortex of their fate, might yet be clutched at. San Benavides, trying vainly to guess what was being said, blurted forth an anxious inquiry. His compatriot explained briefly. Somehow, the measured cadence of their talk had a less reliable sound than the vigorous Anglo-Saxon. They were both brave men. They had not scrupled to risk their lives in an enterprise where success beckoned even doubtingly. But they were lacking when all that remained to be settled was how best to die; in such an hour the men of an English speaking race will ever choose a fighting death. This time, it was a woman who decided. Iris rose to her feet. She brushed back the strands of damp hair from her face, and with deft hands made a rough-and-ready coil of her abundant tresses. "Are you planning to send me with two others adrift in a boat, while seventeen men are left here?" she asked. The Brazilian ceased speaking. There was another uneasy pause. Hozier felt that the question was addressed to him, but he was tongue-tied, almost shame-faced. Coke, however, did not shirk the task of enlightening her. "Something like that," he said. "We can't let you cut in with the rest of us, missy. That wouldn't be reasonable. But it's best to fix the business fair an' square. We ain't agoin' to try any other way, not so long as _I'm_ skipper," and he looked with brutal frankness at De Sylva and the anxious but uncomprehending San Benavides. The ex-President knew what he meant; even in his despondency he resented the implied slur on his good faith. "You cannot examine the boat until darkness sets in," he said. "Then you will find out how frail a foundation you are building on. It is absolutely ridiculous to assume that she can be made seaworthy. Her occupants would be drowned before they were clear of the islands." "In any case, I refuse to go," said Iris. De Sylva smiled gloomily. "You are courageous, senhora, and, in some respects, you are wise," he said. "Yet . . . I must admit it . . . I would urge you to select the boat--in preference . . ." Marcel, the Brazilian who had come to tell them of the drifting life-boat, turned away from the mouth of the cavern, and scrambled down the ravine. "Wot's 'e after?" demanded Coke, suddenly suspicious. "He and Domingo are keeping a lookout," said De Sylva. "If the soldiers intend to visit us we should at least be warned. The boat is hidden among the rocks on the landward side," he added, not without a touch of scorn.