The chief cried out,—­

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” replied Galdeazun, “that in half an hour we shall founder.”

CHAPTER XVII.

THE LAST RESOURCE.

There was a hole in the keel.  A leak had been sprung.  When it happened no one could have said.  Was it when they touched the Caskets?  Was it off Ortach?  Was it when they were whirled about the shallows west of Aurigny?  It was most probable that they had touched some rock there.  They had struck against some hidden buttress which they had not felt in the midst of the convulsive fury of the wind which was tossing them.  In tetanus who would feel a prick?

The other sailor, the southern Basque, whose name was Ave Maria, went down into the hold, too, came on deck again, and said,—­

“There are two varas of water in the hold.”

About six feet.

Ave Maria added, “In less than forty minutes we shall sink.”

Where was the leak?  They couldn’t find it.  It was hidden by the water which was filling up the hold.  The vessel had a hole in her hull somewhere under the water-line, quite forward in the keel.  Impossible to find it—­impossible to check it.  They had a wound which they could not stanch.  The water, however, was not rising very fast.

The chief called out,

“We must work the pump.”

Galdeazun replied, “We have no pump left.”

“Then,” said the chief, “we must make for land.”

“Where is the land?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nor I.”

“But it must be somewhere.”

“True enough.”

“Let some one steer for it.”

“We have no pilot.”

“Stand to the tiller yourself.”

“We have lost the tiller.”

“Let’s rig one out of the first beam we can lay hands on.  Nails—­a hammer—­quick—­some tools.”

“The carpenter’s box is overboard, we have no tools.”

“We’ll steer all the same, no matter where.”

“The rudder is lost.”

“Where is the boat?  We’ll get in and row.”

“The boat is lost.”

“We’ll row the wreck.”

“We have lost the oars.”

“We’ll sail.”

“We have lost the sails and the mast.”

“We’ll rig one up with a pole and a tarpaulin for sail Let’s get clear of this and trust in the wind.”

“There is no wind.”

The wind, indeed, had left them, the storm had fled; and its departure, which they had believed to mean safety, meant, in fact, destruction.  Had the sou’-wester continued it might have driven them wildly on some shore—­might have beaten the leak in speed—­might, perhaps, have carried them to some propitious sandbank, and cast them on it before the hooker foundered.  The swiftness of the storm, bearing them away, might have enabled them to reach land; but no more wind, no more hope.  They were going to die because the hurricane was over.