Pen connu dans l'histoire,
Se levant tard, se couchant tot,
Dormant fort bien sans gloire.

The Frenchman took the merry monarch seriously, but the lilting melody
pleased everybody except "Mr. Wood." The "Oh, Oh's" and "Ah, Ah's" of
the chorus apparently stirred him to speech. He strolled from a corner
of the saloon to the side of Gray, the American engineer, and said,
with a contemptuous nod towards the singer:

"What rot!"

"Not a bit of it. He's all right. Won't _you_ give us a song next?"

If Gray showed the face of a sphinx, so did "Mr. Wood," whose real name
was Tollemache. He bent a little nearer.

"Seen the rockets?" he asked.

"No. Are we signaling?"

"Every minute. Have counted fifteen."

"You don't say. Things are in a pretty bad shape, then?"

"Rotten."

"Well, like Brer Rabbit, we must lie low and say nothing."

This opinion was incontrovertible. Moreover, Tollemache was not one
who needed urging to keep his mouth shut. Indeed, this was by far the
longest conversation he had indulged in since he came aboard; nor was
he finished with it.

"Ship will strike soon," he said.

Gray turned on him sharply. "Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed. "What has
put that absurd notion into your head?"

"Know this coast."

"But we are far out at sea."

"Fifty miles from danger line, two hours ago. Thirty now."

"Are you sure?"

"Certain."

"Do you mean to tell me that in three hours, or less, the ship may be a
wreck?"

"Will be," said Tollemache. "Have a cigar," and he passed a
well-filled case to his companion.

The American was beginning to take the silent one's measure. He bit
off the end of a cigar and lit it.

"What's at the back of your head?" he asked coolly. The other looked
towards the Chileans.

"Those chaps are rotters," he said.

"You think they will cut up rough? What can they do? We must all sink
or swim together."

"Yes; but there are the women, you know. They must be looked after.
You can count on me. Tell the chief steward--and the padri."

Gray felt that here was a man after his own heart, the native-born
American having a rough-and-ready way of classifying nationalities when
the last test of manhood is applied by a shipwreck, or a fire.

"Got a gun?" he inquired.

"Cabin. Goin' for it first opportunity."

"Same here. But the captain will give us some sort of warning?"

"Perhaps not. Die quick, die happy."

Then Gray smiled, and he coul