Heedless of the fate of their comrades, the remainder of the crew made a headlong rush for one of the quarter boats. Being more to lee'ard, for the San Martin had struck with the wind on her starboard quarter, this boat seemed to stand little chance.
Ellerton could hear the captain's voice, urging the men to swing the boat clear. The apprentice sprang towards the falls.
"You are not going to throw away your life, are you?" shouted Andy, grasping him by the shoulder.
"No; but I'm going to give those fellows a chance. Stand by that rope, take a turn round that cleat, and lower when I give the word."
The last of the Peruvian seamen had scrambled into the boat. Not one of these cared who was left; all that they knew was that a few remained to man the falls, but in the darkness they were unaware that it was the British lads who stayed to help them.
"Lower!" yelled Ellerton.
Swiftly the ropes ran through the blocks. The crest of a wave received the frail boat, and, more by luck than by good management, the seamen contrived to disengage the falls. Then the oars splashed, and the next instant the boat was lost to sight in the darkness.
For a brief instant the chums stood in silence, grasping one of the now burdenless davits. They were alone—a crippled man, three lads, and a native boy—upon an abandoned vessel that threatened every moment to part amidships.
Where they were they had no possible knowledge. The ship was aground, but whether on an isolated rock, or, what was more than likely, upon the edge of an encircling reef, they knew not. They must wait till daylight—if they were fated to see the dawn of another day—but they were determined that the anxious period of waiting should not be passed in idleness.
Returning to the cabin where Mr. McKay was lying in suspense, awaiting news of their hazardous position, the lads briefly explained what had happened during their absence on deck.