The Eunice had struck about a quarter of a mile from the shore, but so fierce were the waves between her and the land, that it seemed as though no boat could live in that hell of waters. However, as a last hope, the captain ordered the lifeboat to be lowered, which was accordingly done; but the moment it touched the water all discipline was at an end, for the men, seeing the means of safety, rushed in a tumultuous crowd to take advantage of it. In a few minutes the lifeboat was filled with a black mass of human beings, in spite of the captain’s efforts to maintain order, and cutting the ropes they made for the shore. Hardly had the boat left the ship, when, caught by a huge wave, she capsized, and the waves were black with shrieking masses of humanity. “O God! O God!” groaned Crispin, hiding his face; “they will all be drowned.” And so they were, for, in spite of their life-belts, the waves griped the drowning men with irresistible force, and dashed them mangled corpses against the rocks. Of the crowd of living, breathing creatures that had gone off a few minutes before, not one remained alive, and the survivors felt that their fate would be the same. “Lower away the gig!” shouted Martin, going up to where the boat was hanging; “and if you cowards rush her, I’ll shoot freely.” Cowed by his revolver, which was covering them with its six deadly cartridges, the men did as they were ordered, and, placing the boat in charge of the mate, the captain made them all get in in orderly fashion. “Now, gentlemen,” said Martin to the three who stood near him, “get in quick—the yacht will soon be under water.” “But yourself?” “It’s my duty to stick to the ship,” said the brave old man; “if she goes down, I go down—if she doesn’t, there will be hope of safety; but I will be the last to leave her.” “There’s room in the boat,” called the mate; “quick, for your lives.” Caliphronas needed no urging, but sprang into the boat, then, either from treachery or terror, cut the rope which held her to the yacht with a knife he had in his hand. There was a shout of execration from the crew, but the act was irremediable, and the gig plunged away into the darkness; the last seen by the four survivors on deck being Caliphronas, furiously fighting with two of the men, who were trying to hurl him overboard. The yacht was now nearly under water, and on her deck stood Martin, Maurice, Crispin, and Gurt. “Only one hope,” cried Martin, furiously shaking his fist at the retreating boat; “climb up the mast!”