A cry of horror escaped those on board, and for some time they stood silent in utter dismay. "The rope wasn't tied," groaned Arthur. "Yes, it was," said Captain Corbet; "it bruk; catch me not tyin it. It bruk; see here!" and he held up in the dim light the end of the rope which still was fastened to the schooner. "I didn't know it was rotten," he moaned; "'tain't over ten year old, that bit o' rope, an I've had it an used it a thousand times without its ever thinkin o' breakin." "What can we do?" cried Arthur. "We must do something to save him." Captain Corbet shook his head. "We've got no boat," said he. "Boat! Who wants a boat?" "What can we do without a boat?" "Why, up anchor, and go after him with the schooner." "The schooner's hard and fast," said Captain Corbet, mournfully. "Hard and fast?" "Yes; don't you notice how she leans? It's only a little, but that's a sign that her keel's in the mud." "I don't believe it! I won't believe it!" cried Arthur. "Come, boys, up with the anchor." As the boys rushed to the windlass, Captain Corbet went there, too, followed by the mate, and they worked at it for some time, until at last the anchor rose to the surface. But the Antelope did not move. On the contrary, a still greater list to one side, which was now unmistakable, showed that the captain was right, and that she was actually, as he said, hard and fast. This fact had to be recognized, but Arthur would not be satisfied until he had actually seen the anchor, and then he knew that the vessel was really aground. "Do you mean to say," he cried at last, "that there is nothing to be done?" "I don't see," said Captain Corbet, "what thar is to be done till the schewner muves." "When will that be?" "Not till to-morrow mornin." "How early?" "Not before eight o'clock." "Eight o'clock!" cried Arthur, in horror. "Yes, eight o'clock. You see we had to come in pooty nigh to the shore, an it'll be eight o'clock before we're floated." "And what'll become of poor Tom?" groaned Arthur. "Wal," said the captain, "don't look on the wust. He may get ashore." "He has no oar. The oar was thrown aboard of the schooner." "Still he may be carried ashore." "Is there any chance?" "Wal, not much, to tell the truth. Thar's no use of buo-oyin of ourselves up with false hopes; not a mite. Thar's a better chance of his bein picked up. That thar's likely now, an not unnatooral. Let's all don't give up. If thar's no fog outside, I'd say his chances air good." "But it may be foggy." "Then, in that case, he'll have to drift a while--sure." "Then there's no hope." "Hope? Who's a sayin thar's no hope? Why, look here; he's got provisions on board, an needn't starve; so if he does float for a day or two, whar's the harm? He's sure to be picked up eventooally." At this moment their conversation was interrupted by a loud call from the promontory. It was the voice of Bruce.