way instead of joining those
working at the raft. Some time had passed, when Owen heard voices
coming out of the captain's cabin, some singing sea ditties, others
shouting loudly in discordant tones.

"The rascals have gone in and got drunk," cried the boatswain, who heard
them also. He made his way into the cabin, intending to turn them out.
His efforts were in vain, they jeered and laughed at him.

"If the ship goes down, we intend to go down with her," cried one of his
own mates. "A short life and a merry one. Oh! come and join us, old
Fidd."

The boatswain finding remonstrance useless, and unwilling to waste time
returned to his labours. Just at that moment there came a fearful
crash, the stout timbers and beams were rent, as if composed of mere
touchwood. The ship broke in two. The sea, rushing through the stern
ports, swept every one out of the cabin, and the ribald songs and jests
of those within were in a moment changed for cries of help and mercy.

Owen and Nat regained their former position, where they were partially
protected by the only portion of the bulwarks remaining above water.
The survivors of the crew on the after part of the ship here joined
them. The raft, still incomplete, remained on deck. What had become of
the boat they could not tell, but shouts were heard amid the roaring of
the sea, which came either from her, or from some of the men who had
gained the other part of the wreck. No one having seen Mr Scoones, it
was supposed that he had shared the fate of the other officers.

Never had a night appeared so long to Owen. Eagerly he and his
companions in misfortune looked out for the first streaks of dawn in the
eastern horizon. They appeared at last, and a faint cheer burst from
the seamen.

"A sail! a sail!" cried Mike Coffey, an Irish seaman. All eyes were at
once turned in the direction he pointed, but, as the light increased,
disappointment took the place of the hopes which had been raised, and
the jagged point of a rock, whitened by the sea-birds perched upon it,
was seen rising above the troubled waters. The remnant of the
shipwrecked crew now looked out in the opposite direction, in the hope
of discovering land.

A line of rocks rising a few feet out of the water were alone visible at
the distance of eighty or a hundred fathoms from the ship.

The long-boat, on which their hopes of safety depended, had been carried
away when the ship parted, and was nowhere to be see