"God help us all!" screamed the carpenter; "no more use at them pumps. What you hear is the water surgin' into the hold."
Mary clung closely to her lover, while the men with axes at once went to work, chopping down pieces of timber for the purpose of forming a raft.
"How far should you judge we are from yonder island!" said Harry, now pointing to the red gleam which seemed to send a track of lurid fire shooting through the darkness.
"Well," answered Tom Turk, "it's hard tellin' at night though I'm shouldn't say we're more than a league from it. It's symbological," continued Turk, gloomily crossing his arms over his breast, "to many of us as shall go below instead of aloft."
"I dare say you have sinned as well as others, you old rascal!" cried Brand, fiercely addressing the speaker.
"There's no denying that," answered Tom; "I have sinned when I was a little chip, but not since the days o' my apple steelin', from orchards and such like. Ever since, I have behaved myself like a martyr, confinin' myself to but eights tauts of grog at a time—when I could get it, that is; which ain't under present state of affairs."
Meanwhile the men hurried to construct the raft, which was at last completed in a clumsy manner, owing to the hurried nature of the work.
It was high time it was finished, for every part of the craft except a dry spot on the quarterdeck, was now buried, the water reaching half way up the stumps of the shattered masts.
The raft was secured alongside, after which Harry helped Mary to the floating platform, taking care to lash her securely to the timbers.