Day after day they toiled and toiled. Never before, perhaps, had such hard and tedious work been performed by men who were far from well.
The labour of cutting a ship clear from the main pack of ice in the Arctic seas is great indeed, but there the weather is cold. Here, on the contrary, the sun’s heat almost broiled the poor fellows, and the water served out to them was all but hot.
No wonder that before five days were over three had succumbed to sunstroke, two of whom were dead.
Their deaths caused fear in the hearts of the survivors, for no one knew whose turn might come next.
Antonio and the officers worked as hard, if not harder, than the crew did.
But now came Sabbath, and rest. They were working for dear life itself, it is true, yet Antonio believed that ill-luck would follow, if they did not refrain from work on Sunday.
But Monday morning saw them hard at it again.
And lo! on the evening of that day, with a delight that was inexpressible, they beheld the blue open water not ten miles away.
In three days more, being still above the sandbank, they found themselves at anchor beyond and clear away from Sargasso, that mysterious and echoless sea.
And now a most difficult task lay before them.