Thrice she pounded heavily, each time being cast nearer in shore, till with her hold filled with water, the Etoile settled firmly on a bed of sand.
Desperately her crew held on, watching the callous spectators on shore, who, in turn, were waiting for the wreckage to be cast at their feet. Not a word was spoken by the shipwrecked men; all they could do was to await the end in whatever form it might come.
After a considerable time had passed in this hazardous position Geoffrey fancied that the shocks were becoming less violent. Cascades of foam still swept over the craft, and already portions of the hull were beginning to show signs of breaking-up. All but the stump of the mast and the small spread of sail had vanished, having gone by the board soon after the first shock.
Yes, now he was certain; the tide was falling.
Making his way along the steeply sloping deck to where Arnold was standing Geoffrey communicated the discovery.
"Ay, it gives us hope," shouted Gripwell in reply. "The boat holds together. In another half-an-hour we may essay the task."
So saying he whipped out his knife and began to sever one of the ropes that trailed across the deck. It was a hazardous business, since he had to release his grasp upon the coaming of the hatchway; but by dint of working hard between the sweep of each succeeding breaker he contrived to secure a goodly coil of cordage.
With this the four members of the crew were lashed together with a distance of about twelve feet between them.
These preparations were observed by those on shore, for there was a decidedly hostile movement on their part, some going so far as to string their bows.
"Look at them," exclaimed Jean excitedly. "They are about to kill us."