oly shake of his head. "Of
course, Mr. Barclay," he went on, "if it's your wish, sir--but it'll do
no more, I allow, than frighten the young lady. 'Tis but a peashooter,
sir, and the gale's like thunder."

"We are in your hands, Caudel," said I, with a feeling of despair
ice-cold at my heart, as I reflected upon the size of our little craft,
her crippled and sinking condition, our distance from land--as I felt
the terrible might and powers of the seas which were tossing us--and as
I thought of my sweetheart!

"Mr. Barclay," he answered, "if the weather do but moderate, I shall
have no fear. Our case ain't hopeless yet by a long way, sir. The
water's to be kept under by continuous pumping, and there are hands
enough and to spare for that job. We're not in the middle of the
Atlantic Ocean, but in the mouth of the English Channel, with plenty of
shipping knocking about. But the weather's got to moderate. Firing
that there gun 'ud only terrify the young lady, and do no good. If a
ship came along no boat could live in this sea. In this here blackness
she couldn't kept us company, and our rockets wouldn't be visible half
a mile off. No, sir, we've got to stick to the pump, and pray for
daylight and fine weather," and, having no more to say to me, or a
sudden emotion checking his utterance, he pulled his head out and
disappeared in the obscurity.

Grace asked me what Caudel had been talking about, and I answered with
the utmost composure I could master that he had come to tell me the
yacht was making a noble fight of it and that there was nothing to
cause us alarm. I had not the heart to respond otherwise, nor could
the bare truth, as I understood it, have served any other end than to
deprive her of her senses. Even now, I seemed to find an expression of
wildness in her beautiful eyes, as though the tension of her nerves,
along with the weary endless hours of delirious pitching and tossing,
was beginning to tell upon her brain. I sought to comfort her, I
caressed her, I strained her to my heart, whilst I exerted my whole
soul to look cheerfully and to speak cheerfully, and, thank God! the
influence of my true, deep love prevailed; she spoke tranquilly; the
brilliant staring look of her eyes was softened; occasionally she would
smile as she lay in my arms, whilst I rattled on, struggling, with a
resolution that now seems preternatural when I look back, to distract
her attention from our situation.

At one o'cl