And poor Duncan! He had been dashed to leeward and so stunned that his brother and a sailor who had picked him up, believed him to be dead.
For three days he lay unconscious, but in two more days he was to all appearance himself again.
Although suffering from a bad scalp wound, he was able to go on deck.
And sad indeed was the sight he now beheld. With the binnacle washed away, without an officer to guide or direct the vessel; and the men, in almost hourly expectation of death should the wind spring up again once more, had allowed the ship to drift with the current. They were helpless, ay, and hopeless.
And I am sorry to add that many of them had found their way to the spirit room, and were lying on deck drunk and asleep.
Duncan now proved himself the right man--or boy, for he was but little over seventeen--in the right place.
He called the hands aft.
"Men," he said, "we cannot continue in this state; some effort must be made to save our lives and the valuable cargo."
"Ah! young sir," said the bo's'n sadly, "all our officers are dead. There is no one to guide or navigate the ship. We must drift on till we strike reef or rock and so go to pieces.
"Never fear, sir, we'll die like true-born Britons."