[Illustration: HE STRUGGLED DESPERATELY TO THROW HIMSELF ONCE MORE INTO THE SEA.]
Jenkins by a dexterous movement succeeded in lifting one of the survivors on board—a man almost destitute of clothing, and without hair left on his head. It was Da Silva.
The Spaniard was just able to realise that he was in the hands of his foes. He struggled desperately to throw himself once more into the sea. The effort was too much for his weakened energies, and, uttering a malediction, he expired in the arms of his rescuer.
The second pirate was one of the ordinary seamen, a massive-framed Catalonian, who, having an inkling of Cervillo's desperate resolve, had jumped overboard a few seconds before the explosion took place. Ere he regained the surface the worst of the disaster was past, but the concussion temporarily deprived him of his senses. At length, practically blind and deaf, he struck out feebly until his hands encountered the piece of floating wreckage. Here he clung till rescued by the crew of the Mosquito.
In vain Drake cruised over the fatal scene in search of more survivors. There were none. "Easy ahead," he ordered, and the little craft headed towards the boats, whose crews, now recovering from the effects of the terrible detonation, were proceeding to pull back to the Cerberus.
"Any casualties?" asked Drake, anxiously.
"None, thank Heaven," replied Lieutenant Thompson, who was in charge of the expedition. "All pretty well shaken up though, by Jove!"
"Stand by for a tow," continued Drake, and a minute later the boats were sedately following the Mosquito.
"One survivor, sir," replied Drake as he came alongside the scout. "He's pretty bad; but we can question him later. He's only fit for the sick-bay at present."
"That rascal Cervillo has saved us a nasty job," remarked the captain. "But what's become of the Impregnable, I wonder?"