had fallen,
and that there was somewhat less sea running, and in a short time the
light began to increase. I do not think that otherwise we should have
accomplished our task. Jim sprang forward with his axe, taking always
the post of danger, and hacking away at rope after rope as he could
manage to reach them.

I followed his example. Often we had to hold on for our lives as the
seas washed over us. At length the work was accomplished. We gave a
shout of satisfaction as, the last rope severed, we saw the mass of
wreck drop clear of the brig. But our work was not done. There we were
in the midst of the North Sea, without masts or canvas or boats, our
bulwarks gone, the brig sorely battered, and only our two selves and our
poor old captain to navigate her. To preserve his life our constant
attention was required.

"We'll go below and see how the old man gets on," I said. "There's
nothing more for us to do on deck that I can see at present."

"Not so sure of that, Peter," answered Jim. "You go and look after the
skipper, and I'll just see how matters are forward and down in the
hold."

As I felt sure that the captain ought not to be left longer alone, I
hurried into the cabin. He was conscious, but still scarcely able to
speak. I told him that we had cleared away the wreck of the masts, and
that the weather was moderating.

"Thank God!" he murmured. Then, getting some more water, I again
dressed his wounded head, and afterwards proposed lighting the cabin
fire and trying to make him some broth.

"Water! I only want water," he said, in the same low voice as before.

I procured some in a mug. He drank it, and then said, "Get up
jury-masts and steer west," not understanding as yet, I suppose, that
the crew were lost.

"Ay, ay, sir," I answered, being unwilling to undeceive him, though I
wondered how Jim and I could alone obey his orders; yet, if we were ever
to reach a port, jury-masts must be got up.

As I could do nothing more just then for the captain, I was going on
deck, when I met Jim at the companion-hatch, his face wearing an
expression of the greatest alarm.

"Things are very bad, Peter," he exclaimed. "The water is coming in
through a big hole in the bows like a mill-sluice, and I'm much afeared
that before long the old craft will carry us and the captain to the
bottom."

"Not if we keep our wits awake, Jim," I answered. "We must try to stop
the hole. Come along."

Hurrying forwar