The presence of Costal in such sad plight sufficiently revealed the fate of the canoe and its occupants. Words could not have made the history of their misfortune more clear. "It is no use remaining longer here," said the soldier-admiral. "The canoe must have gone to the bottom. Now, my braves! we shall pull straight for the isle." Then raising his sombrero in a reverential manner, he added-- "Let us pray for the souls of our unfortunate comrades--above all, for Captain Lantejas. We have lost in him a most valiant officer." And after this laconic oration over Don Cornelio, the barges were once more set in motion, and rowed directly towards the isle of Roqueta. Meanwhile the unhappy Lantejas sat upon the keel of the broken canoe, contemplating with horrible anxiety the waves of the ocean constantly surging around him, and gradually growing fiercer and higher. Now they appeared as dark as Erebus; anon like ridges of liquid fire, as the lightning flashed athwart the sky, furrowing the black clouds over his head. He listened attentively. He heard the wind whistling against the waves, and lashing them into fury--as a horseman rouses his steed with whip and spur; he heard the groaning of the surge, like an untamed horse rebelling against his rider. Fortunately for him, it was yet but the prologue of the storm to which he was listening; and he was still able to maintain his seat upon the frail embarkation. At short intervals he shouted with all his might, but the wind hurled back his cries, mingled with the spray that was dashed in his face. No succour appeared within sight or hearing. Costal had no doubt been either drowned or devoured; and the unhappy officer had arrived at the full conviction, that such was to be his own fate; when, all of a sudden, some object came under his eyes that caused him to quiver with joy. Under the glare of the lightning, the barges were visible mounted on the crest of a huge dark wave! Only a momentary glance did he obtain of them; for, after the flash had passed, the boats were again shrouded in the obscurity of the night. Do Cornelio raised a loud cry, and listened for the response. No voice reached him. His own was drowned; midst the roaring of the waters, and could not have been heard by the people on board the boats. He shouted repeatedly, but with the like result--no response. Once more was he plunged into the deepest anxiety--approaching almost to despair--when on the next flashing of lightning he once more beheld the barges at a little distance from him, but in a direction altogether opposite! They had passed him in the darkness, and were now rowing away! This was his reflection, though it was an erroneous one. The boats were still in the same direction as at first, but now appeared in the opposite quarter. This deception arose from Don Cornelio himself having turned round on the broken canoe, which kept constantly spinning about upon the waves.