“We did better than that, sir,” said the old sailor respectfully; “we put the helm up to run before the tempest; ten minutes after we struck our topsails and scudded under bare poles.”
“The vessel was very old to risk that,” said the Englishman.
“Eh, it was that that did the business; after pitching heavily for twelve hours we sprung a leak.
‘Penelon,’ said the captain, ‘I think we are sinking, give me the helm, and go down into the hold.’
I gave him the helm, and descended; there was already three feet of water. ‘All hands to the pumps!’ I shouted; but it was too late, and it seemed the more we pumped the more came in.
‘Ah,’ said I, after four hours’ work, ‘since we are sinking, let us sink; we can die but once.’
‘Is that the example you set, Penelon?’ cries the captain; ‘very well, wait a minute.’
He went into his cabin and came back with a brace of pistols. ‘I will blow the brains out of the first man who leaves the pump,’ said he.”
“Well done!” said the Englishman.
“There’s nothing gives you so much courage as good reasons,” continued the sailor; “and during that time the wind had abated, and the sea gone down, but the water kept rising; not much, only two inches an hour, but still it rose. Two inches an hour does not seem much, but in twelve hours that makes two feet, and three we had before, that makes five. > ‘Come,’ said the captain, ‘we have done all in our power, and M. Morrel will have nothing to reproach us with,