[Illustration: “THE SHIP FELL WITH A CRASH THAT THREW STEVE AND THE CAPTAIN OFF THEIR FEET.”] “There is not much chance of that,” the Peruvian said as he rose again, taking up the conversation at the point at which it had been broken; “an hour or two will see the end of her, perhaps even less.” “It felt to me as if she struck all over,” Stephen said, “and I should think she is on a flat ledge of rock. I don’t think that the wind is blowing as hard as it was when we lay down. There are some stars shining. At any rate we may as well go in again and wait. We should only be swept overboard if we tried to go forward.” He turned to re-enter the cabin, but was nearly carried off his feet by a torrent of water that swept along the passage. “That last wave has smashed her stern in,” he said to the Peruvian; “we must stand outside.” They seated themselves on the deck, with their backs to the poop. The cataract of water which from time to time swept over them from above, fell beyond them and rushed forward. “Her head is lower than her stern,” the Peruvian remarked. “I begin to think she may hold together until morning; she has not lifted again.” It seemed, indeed, as if the storm had made its last effort in the great surge that had shifted the vessel forward. For although the waves still struck her with tremendous force, and they could hear an occasional rending and splintering of the timbers astern, she no longer moved, although she quivered from end to end under each blow, and worked as if at any moment she would break into fragments. “The foremast has gone,” Stephen said presently. “I suppose it went over her bows when she struck. I am afraid none of the men have escaped. I can’t make out the head of the vessel at all.” “They may have been washed ashore; but it is probable that the fall of the mast imprisoned them,” the captain said; “and as the stern is raised a good many feet, they must have been drowned at once. Poor fellows, there were some good men among them.” “I wish we had had them all aft,” Steve exclaimed in a tone of deep regret. “Of course, we never thought of this; and indeed there was but small room for them in your little cabin. It seemed that death would come to us all together, and that their chances in the fo’c’s’le were as hopeless as ours in the stern cabin.” “It is the will of God,” the Peruvian said philosophically; “and it is probable their turn has come only a few hours before ours.” They sat silently for a long time. At last Stephen said: “The sea is certainly going down, and I can make out the outlines of the land. I think day will soon be breaking. We must have slept a good many hours before she struck.” He took out his watch, but it was too dark to see the face. He opened the case and felt the position of the hands: “It is half-past three,” he said. “In another half-hour we shall have light enough to see where we are.”