A blast of wind sweeping past at the moment hindered Lantejas from hearing the last words of his companion's speech. He saw, however, that the latter had relapsed into his ominous silence, and that the cloud of inquietude was growing darker over his countenance. It was almost an expression of fear that now betrayed itself upon the bronzed visage of the Indian. The Captain well knew that the least display of such a sentiment on the part of Costal, was evidence that the danger was extreme. Not that he needed any farther proof of this, than what he saw around him; but, so long as the Zapoteque showed no signs of fear, he had entertained a hope that the latter might still find some resource for their safety. He almost believed himself saved, when the voice of the Indian once more fell upon his ear, in a tone that seemed to betray an indifference to their present situation. "Well, Senor Don Cornelio," said Costal, "what would you give now to be lying in a hammock, with a canopy of jaguars and rattlesnakes over you? Eh?" Costal smiled as he recalled the scene of the inundation. His gaiety was a good sign. Almost immediately after, however, he muttered to himself, in a tone of inquietude-- "Can it be possible that the barges have gone back?" In situations of a frightful kind the smallest suspicion soon assumes the form of a reality; and the Captain did not doubt but that the barges had returned to the shore. Not that there was the slightest reason for this belief. On the contrary, it was more natural to suppose that they were still in the place where they had been left--awaiting the return of the canoe, and the news it might bring them. This was all the more likely: since they in the barges could not fail to have heard the shot from the schooner, and would be awaiting an explanation of it. The probability of all this--especially of the boats being still in the same place--did not fail to strike Costal, who for some seconds appeared to be reflecting profoundly. Meanwhile the waves had increased, and had all the appearance of soon becoming much larger. Already the frail embarkation was tossed about like an egg-shell. "Listen to me, Senor Don Cornelio Lantejas!" said Costal. "Ah!" woefully murmured the Captain, on hearing his patronymic pronounced; for ever since his proscription as Cornelio Lantejas, he had held his own name in horror. Never did it sound to him with a more lugubrious accent than now. "Listen!" said Costal, repeating himself with emphasis; "I know you are a man for whom death has no terrors. Well, then! I think it would not be right of me to conceal from you--a fact--" "What fact?" "That if we stay here one hour longer, we must both go to the bottom. The waves are constantly growing bigger, as you see--" "And what can we do?" demanded Lantejas, in a despairing tone.