“It’s what many have wished before, boy, and if has come in good time,” answered Reuben.
“There’s just only one thing for it, and that’s patience, as Sandy McPherson, an old shipmate of mine, used to say whenever he was in trouble.”
The dawn did come at last, but it was very grey and very cold; but the wind and sea had gone down and the ship was still afloat. Whether she could be saved was the first question asked by all. Devereux was now senior officer, but his experience was very limited.
“I wish that I had attended more to this sort of thing,” he observed to O’Grady. “I never thought of the possibility of this happening to myself.”
“Faith, I can’t say that I ever thought much about it either,” answered the other midshipman. “But I think that we couldn’t do better than to follow old Noakes’s last order, to cut away the masts. If the ship keeps on her side much longer, she’ll go down, that’s pretty certain.”
“It’s very well to give the order, but where are the axes to cut with?” asked Devereux.
“Well, to be sure, I didn’t think about that,” answered O’Grady. “But I’ll volunteer to go and search for them, and probably others will come and help me.”
“I will, sir,” exclaimed Paul, who overheard the conversation.
“And so will I,” said Reuben Cole; “and what is more, even if the ship does not go down, we shall starve if we don’t, for there isn’t a scrap of food among any of us.”
Alphonse also expressed his readiness to go on the expedition, but O’Grady begged that he would remain and take care of Devereux. No time was to be lost. As soon as there was sufficient light for them to see, securing themselves by ropes, they slipped through a port and disappeared. Devereux, who was unfit for any exertion, remained in the chains. Some minutes passed. He became at last very anxious about his companions. He shouted to them, but no one replied. It appeared to him that the ship was turning over more, and settling deeper than before in the water.