Death was very near us all.
If the boat slipped off the rock upon which a giant billow had mercilessly hurled her, the chances were she must sink immediately, for from the horrible grinding noise below I must believe a hole had been stove in her bottom large enough to overwhelm us.
On the other hand, if the force of the impact had been so terrific as to plant the ill-fated yacht upon the reef so firmly that she could not be washed over, then there was a chance of her holding together for some hours—perhaps, Heaven alone knew, until daylight.
Between the bombardment of each wave we had a breathing spell, when words shouted at the top of the voice could be heard.
I knew I must leave Hildegarde; it would only be for a brief time, but there was no escaping my duty to those others who had stuck by their posts with such faithful heroism.
First I sprang over to where many cork life-preservers were kept in a rack especially prepared; Diana had monopolized the major portion of these, without any regard for the rest of us—fright sees only personal danger I am fain to believe—but luckily a couple remained, and these I snatched up.
Back to Hildegarde I hurried.
She stood up and allowed me to fasten the cork and canvas affair under her arms.
I felt her look of mute entreaty—so the gazelle might gaze upon its executioner, but surely I had little of the power of life and death in my hands, else gladly would I have exercised it in order to save us all.
One thing certain, I could not leave her without some expression of hope.