He took this tarpaulin, made fast the two corners by the laniards to the
two rings of the chains of the funnel on the same side as the leak, and
threw it over the gunwale. The tarpaulin hung like a sheet between the
Little Douvre and the bark, and sunk in the water. The pressure of the
water endeavouring to enter into the hold, kept it close to the hull
upon the gap. The heavier the pressure the closer the sail adhered. It
was stuck by the water itself right upon the fracture. The wound of the
bark was staunched.

The tarred canvas formed an effectual barrier between the interior of
the hold and the waves without. Not a drop of water entered. The leak
was masked, but was not stopped. It was a respite only.

Gilliatt took the scoop and began to bale the sloop. It was time that
she were lightened. The labour warmed him a little, but his weariness
was extreme. He was forced to acknowledge to himself that he could not
complete the work of staunching the hold. He had scarcely eaten
anything, and he had the humiliation of feeling himself exhausted.

He measured the progress of his work by the sinking of the level of
water below his knees. The fall was slow.

Moreover, the leakage was only interrupted; the evil was moderated, not
repaired. The tarpaulin pushed into the gap began to bulge inside;
looking as if a fist were under the canvas, endeavouring to force it
through. The canvas, strong and pitchy, resisted; but the swelling and
the tension increased; it was not certain that it would not give way,
and at any moment the swelling might become a rent. The irruption of
water must then recommence.

In such a case, as the crews of vessels in distress know well, there is
no other remedy than stuffing. The sailors take rags of every kind which
they can find at hand, everything, in fact, which in their language is
called "service;" and with this they push the bulging sail-cloth as far
as they can into the leak.

Of this "service," Gilliatt had none. All the rags and tow which he had
stored up had been used in his operations, or carried away by the storm.

If necessary, he might possibly have been able to find some remains by
searching among the rocks. The sloop was sufficiently lightened for him
to leave it with safety for a quarter of an hour; but how could he make
this search without a light? The darkness was complete. There was no
longer any moon; nothing but the starry sky. He had no dry tow with
which to make a match,