gesture endeavouring to frighten off
the two monsters that flanked him; and he proceeded onward in this way
like some doomed ship, struggling between black masses of rocky
breakers.

By good fortune his efforts proved successful. The hideous creatures,
glaring upon him with glassy eyeballs, were nevertheless frightened by
his menacing gestures, and for the moment diverged a little out of his
way.

Costal took advantage of this precious moment; and, swimming rapidly
forward, succeeded in clutching the side of one of the barges.

A dozen friendly arms instantly drew him aboard; but as his comrades
bent over him upon the deck, they perceived that he was unconscious.
The effort had been too much for his strength. He had sunk into a
syncope.

The presence of Costal in such sad plight sufficiently revealed the fate
of the canoe and its occupants. Words could not have made the history
of their misfortune more clear.

"It is no use remaining longer here," said the soldier-admiral. "The
canoe must have gone to the bottom. Now, my braves! we shall pull
straight for the isle."

Then raising his sombrero in a reverential manner, he added--

"Let us pray for the souls of our unfortunate comrades--above all, for
Captain Lantejas. We have lost in him a most valiant officer."

And after this laconic oration over Don Cornelio, the barges were once
more set in motion, and rowed directly towards the isle of Roqueta.

Meanwhile the unhappy Lantejas sat upon the keel of the broken canoe,
contemplating with horrible anxiety the waves of the ocean constantly
surging around him, and gradually growing fiercer and higher. Now they
appeared as dark as Erebus; anon like ridges of liquid fire, as the
lightning flashed athwart the sky, furrowing the black clouds over his
head.

He listened attentively. He heard the wind whistling against the waves,
and lashing them into fury--as a horseman rouses his steed with whip and
spur; he heard the groaning of the surge, like an untamed horse
rebelling against his rider.

Fortunately for him, it was yet but the prologue of the storm to which
he was listening; and he was still able to maintain his seat upon the
frail embarkation.

At short intervals he shouted with all his might, but the wind hurled
back his cries, mingled with the spray that was dashed in his face.

No succour appeared within sight or hearing. Costal had no doubt been
either drowned or devoured; and the unhappy offi