life-preserver be discovered, I should have a
crowd around me in a moment--in fact, that escape by such means would be
hopeless. Dozens would follow me into the water--would cling to my
limbs--would drag me, in their despairing grasp, to the bottom!

I knew this; and, clutching the Venetian door with firmer grasp, I stood
peering through the apertures in stealthy silence.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"BLESSE."

I had not been in this position more than a few seconds, when some
figures appeared in front of the door, and voices fell upon my ear that
I thought I recognised. Another glance revealed the speakers. They
were the young Creole and her steward.

The conversation passing between them was not a dialogue, but a series
of exclamations--the hurried language of terror. The old man had got
together a few cabin chairs; and with trembling hands was endeavouring
to bind them together, with the design of forming a raft. He had no
other cord than a handkerchief, and some strips of silk, which his young
mistress was tearing from her dress! It would have been but a feeble
raft, had it been completed--not fit to have floated a cat. It was but
the effort of the drowning man "catching at straws." I saw at a glance
that it would afford to neither of them the respite of a minute's life.
The chairs were of heavy rosewood; and, perchance, would have gone to
the bottom of themselves!

The scene produced upon me an impression indescribably strange. I felt
myself standing upon a crisis. I felt called upon to choose between
self and self-sacrifice. Had the choice left no chance of saving my own
life, I fear I should have obeyed the "first law of nature;" but, as
already stated, of my own life I felt secure; the question was, whether
it would be possible for me also to save the lady?

I reasoned rapidly, and as follows;--The life-preserver--a very small
one--will not sustain us both! What if I fasten it upon her, and swim
alongside? A little help from it now and then will be sufficient to
keep me afloat. I am a good swimmer. How far is it to the shore?

I looked in that direction. The glare of the blazing boat lit up the
water to a wide circumference. I could see the brown bank distinctly.
It was full a quarter of a mile distant, with a sharp cross-current
running between it and the wreck.

"Surely I can swim it?" thought I: "sink or swim, I shall make the
attempt to save her!"

I will not deny that other reflecti