llenly; "thet is, not
exzackly. An' I reckon I'm gittin' rid o' that conjure satchel a mite
late. I guess hit's done hit's damnedest a'ready."

Inquiries during the leisurely voyaging through the canal had given
Zeke knowledge concerning the life-belts. Now, he buckled one of them
about his body hastily, for even his ignorance could not fail to
interpret the steady settling of the vessel into the water. The strain
of fighting forebears in the lad set him courageous in the face of
death. But his blood was red and all a-tingle with the joy of life,
and he was very loath to die. His heart yearned for the girl who loved
him. His desire for her was a stabbing agony. The thought of his
mother's destitution, deprived of him in her old age, was grievous.
But his anguish was over the girl--anguish for himself; yet more for
her. The drizzle of the fog on his cheeks brought again a poignant
memory of the mist that had enwrapped them on the stark rocks of the
mountain. A savage revolt welled in him against the monstrous decree
of fate. He cried out roughly a challenge to the elements. Then, in
the next instant, he checked the futile outburst, and bethought him
how best to meet the catastrophe.

The instinct of flight from the rising waters led Zeke to mount the
pilot-house. The lanterns shed a flickering light here, and the youth
uttered a cry of joy as his eyes fell on the life-raft. The shout was
lost in the hissing of steam as the sea rushed in on the boilers. All
the lights were extinguished now, save the running lamps with their
containers of oil. Quickly, the noise from the boiler-room died out,
and again there was silence, save for the occasional bourdoning of the
horns or the mocking caress of the waves that lapped the vessel's
sides--like a colossal serpent licking the prey it would devour
betimes. In the stillness, Zeke wrought swiftly. He wasted no time
over the fastenings. The blade of his knife slashed through the hemp
lashings, and the raft lay clear. He made sure that it was free from
the possibility of entanglement. Then, as the boat lurched
sickeningly, like a drunken man to a fall, Zeke stretched himself face
downward lengthwise of the tiny structure, and clenched his hands on
the tubes. There was a period of dragging seconds, while _The Bonita_
swayed sluggishly, in a shuddering rhythm. Came the death spasm. The
stern was tossed high; the bow plunged for the depths. Down and
down--to the oyster rocks of Teach's