Tirant's galley continued toward Barbary, and the sailors lost their bearings and did not know what seas they were in, and they lamented loudly. Tirant heard the great cries the sailors were making, and he saw the galley's boatswain, who was the best of all the sailors, commending his soul to God because a tackle-block had fallen on his head. A galley slave got up and went to Tirant, and with a great effort he said: "My lord, order the men to bale out the water in the galley. Here is your staff of authority. Hold it in your hand and run through the galley: the boatswain is dead, and all the men see that they are very near death, and are fainting. Do everything you can to make them bale, because if we can get beyond the cape, we can save our lives. It is better for us to be captives of the Moors than to die." Tirant lifted his head, and said: "What seas are we in?" "My lord," said the galley-slave, as he pointed, "those are the seas of Sicily, and these are the seas of Tunis. And because you are a virtuous man I'm sorrier for you than I am for myself. It is Fortune's will that we shall perish on this Barbary Coast, and in a case like this every man should beg forgiveness of the others." Tirant quickly got up, although the dreadful sea was crashing about him so that he was barely able to stand. Then he brought out the best clothing he had, and he dressed in it. He took a sack containing a thousand ducats, and put a note inside that said: "I beg whomsoever should find my body to give it an honorable burial. I am Tirant lo Blanc from Brittany, and of that singular lineage of Roca Salada, High Captain of the Greek Empire." By now it was already past noon, and the further the galley went the more water it took on. The cries increased and death drew near. As they were near land the Moors saw the galley approaching, and they realized that it would run aground just where they wanted it, while the Christians knew that they could not escape death or being captured.