n the tholes, succeeded by the plash of the oar-blades
in the water. After that, the regular "dip-dip," at length dying away,
as the boat receded, leaving the abandoned vessel silent as a graveyard
in the mid-hour of night.

Seated with face towards the cuddy windows, Don Gregorio could see
through them, and as the barque's bow rose on the swell, depressing her
stern, he commanded a view of the sea outside.

There, upon its calm clear surface, he made out a dark object moving
away. It was a boat filled with forms, the oar-blades rising and
tailing in measured stroke, flashing the phosphorescence on both sides.
No wonder at his earnest look--his gaze of concentrated anguish! That
boat held all that was dear to him--bearing that all away, he knows not
whither, to a fate he dare not reflect upon. He could trace the
outlines of land beyond, and perceive that the boat was being rowed for
it, the barque at the same time sailing seaward, each instant widening
the distance between them. But for a long while he could distinguish
the black speck with luminous jets on either side, as the oar-blades
intermittently rose and fell, till at length, entering within the shadow
of the land, he lost sight of it.

"Gone! all gone!" groaned the bereaved father, his beard drooping down
to his breast, his countenance showing he has surrendered up his soul to
despair! So, too, Lantanas.

Then both ceased struggling and shouting, alike convinced of the
idleness of such demonstrations. The chief officer a mutineer, so must
all the others; and all had forsaken the ship. No; not all! There is
one remains true, and who is still on her--the black cook. They heard
his voice, though not with any hope. It came from a distant part of the
ship in cries betokening distress. They could expect no help from him.
He was either disabled, or, as themselves, fast bound.

Throughout the night they heard it; the intervals between becoming
longer, the voice fainter, till he also, yielding to despair, was
silent.

As the morning sun shines in through the stern windows, Don Gregorio can
see they are out of sight of land. Only sea and sky are visible to him;
but neither to Lantanas, whose face is the other way; so fastened he
cannot even turn his head.

The barque is scudding before a breeze, which bears her still farther
into the great South Sea; on whose broad bosom she might beat for weeks,
months--ay, till her timbers rot--without sighting ship