e him to the
stern of the vessel.

"Robin! Robin!" cried Sam, in an agony of impatience--for the raft was
by that time far astern, besides which the shades of evening were
beginning to descend--"_do_ try to rally. We must swim. We're almost
too late. Can you do it?"

"Yes, yes, I can swim like a duck," cried Robin, rising and staggering
towards the bulwarks.

"But _I_ can't swim at all!" cried Stumps in a voice of horror.

Sam stopped as if suddenly paralysed. Then, laying hold of Robin, held
him back. He felt, as he looked at the dark heaving sea and the now
distant raft, that it was not possible for him and Slagg to save both
their injured and their helpless comrade.

"Too late!" he said in a voice of despair, as he sat down and for a
moment covered his face with his hands. Slagg looked at him with a
bewildered rather than a despairing expression.

"So, we'll have to sink together since we can't swim together," he said
at last, with a touch of reckless vexation, as he gazed at the naturally
stupid and by that time imbecile face of his friend Stumps.

"Come, only cowards give way to despair," cried Sam, starting up. "We
have one chance yet, God be praised, but let's work with a will, boys,
for the time is short."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE RAFT.

Sam Shipton's one chance did not seem a bright one, but, with
characteristic energy, he proceeded to avail himself of it at once.

When the raft was launched over the side, as described, the carpenters
had embarked upon it with the rest of the ship's crew, dropping their
tools on the deck beside the mass of unused material of ropes, spars,
planks, etcetera, as they left. Four of the spars were pretty equal in
length. Sam selected them hastily and laid them on the deck in the form
of a square, or oblong frame. Then he seized an axe.

"Unravel some of the ropes, Robin," he cried. "You two select some
planks as near ten feet long as possible. Quick--ask no questions, but
do what I tell you."

Sam Shipton was one of those who hold the opinion that every man born
into the world, whether gentle or simple, should learn a trade. He had
acted on his belief and taught himself that of a carpenter, so that he
wielded the axe with skill, and gave his orders with the precision of
one who knows what he is about. His comrades, although not trained to
any special trade, were active handy fellows, with the exception,
indeed, of John Shanks, whose fingers were us