The captain ordered their only life-boat lowered, and, turning to the crew, he shouted, for the roaring of the wind was terrible, that he with twelve men would set out for shore, and after landing eight with himself and officers, would send the boat back for others.  The captain had no notion that so excellent a punch brewer as Terrence should be lost, and insisted that he go with the first boatload.  The others had no alternative.  They were compelled to submit.  The captain, his lieutenants, Terrence and a dozen sailors sprang over the side, took their places and pushed off.  As the little craft rose and fell in that frightful sea, it seemed doubtful if they would reach the shore.

Dumb with terror, Fernando had watched the whole proceeding.  He could only hold on to a sail and, by the sheer strength of his hands and arms, save himself from being carried overboard, as sea after sea swept over them.  He strained his eyes until it seemed as though they would burst, to follow the movements of that boat on which their lives depended.  It seemed but a mere speck on the waves.  Suddenly it rose to a surprising height, and then disappeared altogether.  The next moment he saw the men struggling in the water.  The boat was broken into pieces and the fragments were brought out to them.  Every man for himself was now the cry throughout the ship.  How far they were from the shore no one could tell.  They had to take their chances.  Although a strong swimmer, Fernando knew that in such a tremendous sea he would be powerless.  There was, however, but the one thing to do.

Raising his hands before him and pressing them firmly together, Fernando drew a long breath, then sprang from the sloop’s rail into the water beneath.  When he rose to the surface he tried to swim.  It was impossible, as he had foreseen.  He was like a child in the grasp of a monster.  The waves tossed him up like a plaything and carried him on —­he could not tell how far or where.  Suddenly a great black object loomed up before him.  It was a part of the wreckage.  He tried to ward it off; but he might as well have tried to ward off the sloop itself, for the sea lifted him up and dashed him onward, and the great mass struck him a heavy blow over the eye—­a flash of lightning gleamed, then all was darkness and a blank.

How long after he could not tell, a strange sensation came creeping slowly over him.  A low murmur of voices reached his ears.  He was bewildered and benumbed; but soon the truth began to dawn, and he knew that, wherever he might be, he was not dead.  Powerless to move, he opened his eyes and fastened them on the objects about him.  He now discovered that he was lying on a bed of straw in a large barn.  How he could have gotten there was yet a mystery.  To his great delight, he recognized the face of Terrence Malone bending over him.

“Well, me boy, ye’re not dead yet, are ye?” “Where are we, Terrence?” he faintly inquired.