For a few moments the ship was lost to them.
They were pitched up and down, backward and forward, the rain cutting their faces, and the cold numbing their hands.
Then it was that Leicester hit upon a means of securing them to the spar.
The rope which had been fastened to his waist still hung there, and he managed, by dint of sheer force, to drag it up, and drop it over the spar once or twice, at each turn passing it round the armpit of Stumpy or himself.
By this means they were completely entangled, and in a rough fashion lashed to the long piece of wood in which all their hopes of life rested.
Dawn broke at last, and the storm subsided; but long before then they were half unconscious and wholly numbed.
When Leicester came to, he found himself lying on his back, and the weather-beaten face of Stumpy over him.
He smiled, and the man groaned back in reply; but for quite an hour no words were spoken.
At the end of that time, when they had almost recovered from the exhaustion, Leicester struggled to his feet and approached Stumpy, who was sitting, hugging his knees, at a little distance on the beach.
"Come," he said. "We are safe, thank Heaven! Cheer up! We must move on."