It needed no seaman's instinct to tell that the San Martin was doomed. Scudding before the lessening gale, she had been lifted on the crest of a huge roller and dropped fairly on the rocks. Her forward part, trembling under the tremendous blows of the waves, was hard and fast aground, while her after part, lifting to the heave of the ocean, assisted, like a gigantic lever, in the destruction of her bows.
Above the roar of the waves, the howling of the wind, and the shattering of iron plates, arose the frantic shouts of the crew.
Already demoralised by their trying experiences in the gale, the last vestiges of discipline had vanished. In the darkness, for now no favouring lightning flash came to throw a light upon the scene, the Peruvian crew rushed madly for the boats, fighting, cursing, entreating, and imploring the saints.
For'ard a succession of rapid cracks, as the trysail, having burst its sheets, was flogging itself to ribbons, added to the din, till the foremast, buckling close to the deck, crashed over the side.
"Come on," shouted Andy, and even then his voice sounded faint in the midst of the terrifying uproar, "let's get the pater on deck."
Ellerton shook his head.
"Better stop where he is. What chance do you think these fellows will have?" and he pointed to the struggling mass of frenzied seamen as they clambered into the boats.
Already the cutter, still in the davits, was crowded, the men striving to swing her clear with oars and stretchers, while others were scrambling up the boat ladders.
Round swung the foremost davit. The men who had already climbed into her began to lower away the boat-falls. A sudden lurch sent the cutter, already at a dangerous angle, crashing into the ship's side. The lower block of the foremost fall became disentangled, and, amidst a chorus of shrieks, the boat swung stern in the air, shooting its human freight into the surging waters.
The next instant a huge wave dashed the swaying cutter into matchwood, the wind drowning the death shouts of a score of hapless victims.