e he felt impending, was calling to his
father to save him! But his father could do nothing. Keep her away from
the worst one, perhaps, and prevent her from rolling over! As for
doubling the Breakwater, he had given up hope of that!

And then ... even the Rector gave a cry of terror.

The _Mayflower_ was at the bottom of a great gully in the sea. From
behind a huge roller of black shining water was curling; and a back-wave
just as high was rushing the other way. The boat would be caught between
them as they met.

It seemed minutes before it was over, though the crash was
instantaneous. With a horrible crunching and wrenching of timber, the
_Mayflower_ went down into a great boiling cauldron; and when she came
to the surface again, her deck was as level and clean as a scow's. The
mast was off even with the flooring and had gone overboard, carrying
sail, men and all. The Rector thought he saw the blanched face of _tio_
Batiste looking up at him out of the water for a second. Then that had
gone. It was about over now!

As the _Mayflower_ came up dismantled and helpless from her terrific
ordeal, the throng on the Breakwater gave one great groan of agony.
"They're lost! They're lost!" The cry was audible even to the men on
board!

With her sail all gone, the boat no longer answered her helm. But
Pascualo by frantic pulling to and fro succeeded in keeping her from
drifting sideways before the wind. A chance wave swept the _Mayflower_
over the rocks off the Breakwater. She did not touch, however, but
drifted by so close that the Rector could recognize faces in the throng.
What anguish! Able to reach them almost with your hand, able to hear
them speak, and yet to be doomed! In a second the jetty was far astern.
They would strike on the bars off Nazaret, and perish in the sands there
that had been the graveyard of so many boats!

Tonet, who had been quite dazed by the repeated buffets from the water
taken aboard, seemed to come to himself suddenly as the boat approached
the Breakwater. It was a vision of life that gleamed in the darkness of
his despair. No! He did not want to die! He would fight and fight to the
last gasp. In the alternative of certain drowning in the undertow off
Nazaret or of taking a chance among the rocks on the Breakwater, he
would take the chance. Hadn't he been famous as the best swimmer in the
Cabanal?

On hands and knees, and at the risk of going overboard with the next
wave, he crawled along f