"To be drowned, some day or night, as I have."
"Oh, no—no! Don't say that. Drowning is a very dreadful death, indeed. I am sure it is."
"It may, or it may not be so," said the man, "but whether it is or not, you and I are very likely soon to find out, for the old craft is going at last."
"Going?"
"Yes. It's all up with her, and it will soon be all down with her, likewise."
"But the ship goes easier through the sea."
"Oh, ah, she's filling, you see, and settling lower down in the water, so you can't have quite so much pitching and tossing as you had an hour ago, hardly."
"You can't mean that? You do not mean to tell me that there is no hope? Oh, say not so!"
"Well, you can please yourself. I can tell you that the rudder has gone.—We have not a mast standing. There is already five feet of water in the hold, and we are drifting as hard as we can upon a lee-shore, so if you can make anything satisfactory out of that, I leave you to do it."
"Did you say we were drifting to shore?"