surrender of the English.

“No,” dissented de Soto, “I think he still sleeps; you must have imagined it, Alvarez.”

The glitter came again into the eyes of the latter, as he replied: “de Soto, my imagination is not—” when suddenly the roar of cannonading again commenced, drowning the remainder of the sentence. Then came a shock that made the stately vessel reel throughout the whole of her massive fabric. There was a rending and grinding of timber, and a frightful crash on deck announced that one of the masts had come down.

Roger heard distant cheers, and knew that his prognostication that the end had not yet come was correct. Evidently the English had repeated the manoeuvre that they had so successfully practised earlier in the day, and laid their ships alongside once more. Musketry, pistol-shots, shouts, groans, the clash of steel, a perfect medley of sound floated down from the deck above and through the open cabin-door.

“Quick, Alvarez, on deck!” roared de Soto, plunging out of the cabin; “the English have laid us aboard, and will have the ship if we are not careful!”

Alvarez was in nowise behindhand. Snatching his sword from its sheath, and clutching a pistol from the table as he went, he followed de Soto on deck.

Roger attempted to get out of his bunk, with the idea of joining his friends on deck and taking part in the fight, but he fell back on his mattress, weak and giddy from the attempt. What would he not give to be able to go on deck at this moment! but he could not stir for the reeling giddiness of his head; he felt that to attempt to rise would but result in his falling insensible to the floor of the cabin; and he could but lie still and listen to the turmoil raging above his head.

The din was terrific; now came triumphant shouts in English, and Roger could picture to himself the bravo fellows rushing the Spaniards pell-mell across their own decks and into the water, or below; and again the tide of battle seemed to turn, and the English to be getting the worst of it.

Oh, maddening thought, that he was helplessly imprisoned here, unable to take part in the brave doings that were being wrought above! Little by little the shouts and fierce cries died away. “Who had won?” conjectured Roger to himself.

There was a clatter of running feet in the passage leading to the cabin, and the man Alvarez, with a hunted look of terror in his face, clashed into the apartment. He burrowed hastily among the papers in the open drawer that Roger had noticed at first, and apparently was unable to find what he was looking for.

“Carramba!” he ejaculated, “what has de Soto done with those papers?”

He tore the remainder of them from the drawer with a curse, flung them on the floor, and, dropping on his knees, hastily turned them over one after another as they lay there.

Now for some time Roger had been vaguely conscious of a peculiar sluggish movement of the ship as she heaved on the swell, and the sight of Alvarez’s haste suddenly brought the ghastly truth home to him. The ship was sinking!

“I must wait no longer,” muttered Alvarez to himself, “or I shall be drowned like a rat in a trap, in company with that young heretic there in the bunk. I wonder whether by any chance de Soto has taken those papers himself! Carrajo! now I remember. When we came in together to look at the English whelp the drawer was open. Without doubt de Soto has them. Well, never mind; I will have them from him before I have finished with him. I can recall all he has said about the Holy Inquisition, and, if that is not enough to condemn him, I can easily enough invent something else; but have those papers from him before he dies, I will. Perhaps, when he is in the hands of that Inquisition he hates so much, he will be willing to surrender those documents to his dear friend Alvarez, if that friend promises to rescue him from further torment. And now for the English cub,” he continued, rising to his feet and drawing his dagger from its sheath.

Once again came that sickening lurch, accompanied by the sound of washing of water close at hand. The ship was fast settling down.

“No,” murmured Alvarez, “I cannot wait. My life is too valuable to me to risk it even for the pleasure of slaying an Englishman; and the sea will soon send the youngster to the nether world.” And he rushed from the cabin, leaving the papers and charts strewn on the floor at the foot of the escritoire.

By this time Roger was pretty fully awake to a knowledge of his great and pressing danger. Here he was, weak and dazed to the point of utter helplessness, on board a fast-sinking ship, with none to render him aid, and feeling quite unable to move without it.

“Oh, God help me!” he moaned; “what a miserable death to die! Harry! Harry! Harry!” he cried distractedly, “come and help me; I am here below drowning! Help! help!”

There was no reply.

But a sound that he had heard before without attaching much importance to it now forced itself upon his attention; it was the swishing of water; and, looking over the edge of his bunk he saw that water was already rising fast over the floor of the cabin. Desperation now lent him strength, and, pulling himself together with a violent effort, he slowly and painfully rose upright and put his legs over the edge of the berth. He felt incapable of making any further effort for the moment.

Then once more he raised his voice and shouted for help, and this time he fancied that far away in the distance he heard a reply. He shouted again and again; then paused, listening.

The answering voice sounded a little nearer.

At that moment the ship gave another roll, and to Roger it seemed as though she must founder immediately.

There was another sickening lurch, and Roger, convinced that the end had come, went tumbling off the edge of his bunk, and fell flat on his face in about two feet of water which was washing over the cabin floor. The shock of the fall displaced his bandages; his wound began to bleed afresh; and, confused as he still was, the idea took possession of him that he was in danger of bleeding to death.

Would nobody ever come to take him out of this awful hole? “Help, help, I am drowning!” he shouted.

But this time there was no answering voice.

Then Roger once more pulled himself together and began to crawl over the floor, the water splashing round and over him. Inch by inch he neared the door, and then he heard a call, so near that it startled him.

“For Heaven’s sake, where are you, Roger? Answer, man, if you are alive.” The voice was Harry’s.

“Harry,” groaned Roger, “here I am; help me quickly or you will be too late; the ship sinks fast!”

Guided by the voice, Harry soon made his appearance.

“Roger, man,” he cried, “thank God I have found you! I thought you were gone for ever. Can you help yourself at all, lad?”

“A little, I think, if you will put your arm round me,” replied Roger.

Harry flung his arm under Roger’s arm-pits and raised him to his feet.

“One moment, Harry,” cried Roger, pointing to the papers which Alvarez had left on the floor, and which were now floating about the cabin; “secure these papers; I believe they are of value.”

Harry seized the documents with his free hand, and, supporting Roger, staggered with him to the foot of the companion-ladder. How they eventually got up into the free air the two never clearly knew, for they were deep down in the body of the ship, and had two or three ladders to climb ere they arrived on the upper deck. But reach it they did, after what seemed an eternity of suspense. Then, as they stepped out once more into the blessed free air of heaven, the whole of the Atlantic seemed suddenly to sweep over the ship; they felt her slide from beneath their feet; and they were drawn down, down, down, until it appeared as though they would never again see the light. But at last, with lungs bursting and almost