Cheyne was standing with his right arm round a pump, his blood-stained face dropped into his bloodstained hand, and his eyes fixed on the man he had sworn to destroy. The Duke and the Marquis stood by the weather rigging, anxiously watching the men at work on the baskets and hawser.
The captain stood at the lee-rigging, looking up at the men aloft. When all was ready, he crossed the deck and said to the Duke:
"Now, your grace, all is ready for you and his lordship."
The Duke pointed his long lean finger at Cheyne and said:
"That man must go first."
The captain drew back to the mast in surprise.
"But, your grace, I am afraid there is danger in delay."
The water was at every wave bursting over the rocks to the windward and rushing from aft along the deck, so that it was impossible to stand without holding on to something.
"There was danger for him when he swam with the rope. He and my son must go first. I will remain. My life is nearly done. If one is to die, let it be me."
As the Duke said this the captain noticed a change come over the Marquis. His eyes closed, his knees bent under him, and he fell to the deck. He had fainted. The relief of knowing there was now a chance of all of them being saved had been too much, and his exhausted strength had broken down under the reaction.