They must rely on their own strength, or perish.  And if ever they were to escape, the time had come; for, at noon, the storm had somewhat lulled; but already the tide had turned, and it was plain that the wreck could not hold together through another flood.  In this emergency, the commanding officer, who until now had remained at his post, once more appealed to Margaret to try to escape,—­urging that the ship would inevitably break up soon; that it was mere suicide to remain longer; that he did not feel free to sacrifice the lives of the crew, or to throw away his own; finally, that he would himself take Angelo, and that sailors should go with Celeste, Ossoli, and herself.  But, as before, Margaret decisively declared that she would not be parted from her husband or her child.  The order was then given to “save themselves,” and all but four of the crew jumped over, several of whom, together with the commander, reached shore alive, though severely bruised and wounded by the drifting fragments.  There is a sad consolation in believing that, if Margaret judged it to be impossible that the three should escape, she in all probability was right.  It required a most rare, combination of courage, promptness and persistency, to do what Davis had done for Mrs. Hasty.  We may not conjecture the crowd of thoughts which influenced the lovers, the parents, in this awful crisis; but doubtless one wish was ever uppermost,—­that, God willing, the last hour might come for ALL, if it must come for one.

It was now past three o’clock, and as, with the rising tide, the gale swelled once more to its former violence, the remnants of the barque fast yielded to the resistless waves.  The cabin went by the board, the after-parts broke up, and the stem settled out of sight.  Soon, too, the forecastle was filled with water, and the helpless little band were driven to the deck, where they clustered round the foremast.  Presently, even this frail support was loosened from the hull, and rose and fell with every billow.  It was plain to all that the final moment drew swiftly nigh.  Of the four seamen who still stood by the passengers, three were as efficient as any among the crew of the Elizabeth.  These were the steward, carpenter, and cook.  The fourth was an old sailor, who, broken down by hardships and sickness, was going home to die.  These men were once again persuading Margaret, Ossoli and Celeste to try the planks, which they held ready in the lee of the ship, and the steward, by whom Nino was so much beloved, had just taken the little fellow in his arms, with the pledge that he would save him or die, when a sea struck the forecastle, and the foremast fell, carrying with it the deck, and all upon it.  The steward and Angelino were washed upon the beach, both dead, though warm, some twenty minutes after.  The cook and carpenter were thrown far upon the foremast, and saved themselves by swimming.  Celeste and Ossoli caught for a moment by the rigging, but the next wave swallowed them up.  Margaret sank at once.  When last seen, she had been seated at the foot of the foremast, still clad in her white night-dress, with her hair fallen loose upon her shoulders.  It was over,—­that twelve hours’ communion, face to face, with Death!  It was over! and the prayer was granted, “that Ossoli, Angelo, and I, may go together, and that the anguish may be brief!”