The Raft.  
Sam Shipton’s one chance did not seem a bright one, but, with characteristic energy, he proceeded to avail himself of it at once.
 
When the raft was launched over the side, as described, the carpenters had embarked upon it with the rest of the ship’s crew, dropping their tools on the deck beside the mass of unused material of ropes, spars, planks, etcetera, as they left. Four of the spars were pretty equal in length. Sam selected them hastily and laid them on the deck in the form of a square, or oblong frame. Then he seized an axe.
 
“Unravel some of the ropes, Robin,” he cried. “You two select some planks as near ten feet long as possible. Quick—ask no questions, but do what I tell you.”
 
Sam Shipton was one of those who hold the opinion that every man born into the world, whether gentle or simple, should learn a trade. He had acted on his belief and taught himself that of a carpenter, so that he wielded the axe with skill, and gave his orders with the precision of one who knows what he is about. His comrades, although not trained to any special trade, were active handy fellows, with the exception, indeed, of John Shanks, whose fingers were usually described as “thumbs,” and whose general movements were clumsy; but Stumps had a redeeming quality to set against defects—he was willing.
 
With a few powerful well-directed blows, Sam cut four deep notches into the two longest of the selected spars, near their ends, at equal distances from each other. Into these he laid the ends of the two shorter spars, thus forming a frame-work.
 
“Twelve feet by ten, not a bad raft,” he muttered, as if to himself, while he snatched a rope from the bundle of those disentangled by Robin. “Take a rope of same size, you two, and lash the opposite corners as you see me doing. Stumps will go on selecting the planks.”
 
Sam jerked out his words with as much rapidity and force as he applied to the labour of his hands. There was something quite tremendous in his energy, and little wonder—for, as he glanced now and then along the deck he saw that the ship was rapidly settling down to her final dive, and that the closing scene would be sudden.
 
Powerfully impressed by his example, the others worked in total silence and with all their might, for Sam’s conduct, far more than the appearance of things, convinced them of their danger.
 
“The planks now, Stumps! Drive in as many of these clamps as you can find, Slagg—so,” (he set the example)—“we’ve no time to bore holes for bolts. A plank now; that’s it! Hand some nails—no, the biggest nails and the big hammer. Mind your fingers!”
 
Down came the heavy hammer on a four-inch nail, which went half through the thick plank. Two more such blows and the iron head was buried in the wood. Six planks sufficed to cover the frame. They were laid lengthwise with nails just sufficient to hold them. A piece of thick rope passed four times round the entire fabric still further secured them in position.
 
“Tie a lot of these nails in a bit of sail-cloth, Slagg, and fix ’em to the raft—to one of the spars, not the planks. Do the same with a saw, hammer, axe, and cask of biscuit,—water, too; don’t forget water. Make a belt of a bit of rope, Robin, and stick that small axe in it. Have it handy.”
 
While he spoke Sam did not look up, but gave all his attention to the tightening, with a hand-spike, of the knot on the thick rope that bound the raft together; for we may as well inform those who don’t know it, that the tying of a knot on a cable is not managed in the same way or with the same ease that a similar operation is performed on a piece of twine.
 
“But how shall we lift it over the side?” asked Stumps, becoming suddenly alive to a difficulty.
 
“Help me to haul on this rope and you shall see,” said Sam.
 
He ran to the side, lifted a coil of rope off its belaying-pin, threw it on the deck, cut the rope clear, and hauled it to the raft, to one end of which he made it fast.
 
It was the strong rope, by means of which one of the mizzen yards was braced, and was rove through a block attached to the outward end of the yard.
 
“Hoist away now—with a will!”
 
“Hold on,” cried Slagg, stuffing a mass of sail-cloth violently, by means of a hand-spike, underneath the binding rope of the raft.
 
“There now—yo ho! heave ho-o!”
 
Up went the end of the little ark of safety, and when one end was raised very little force was required to push it over.
 
“Hold on! hold on! hold o–o–on!” yelled Stumps, straining to prevent the raft from leaving the ship.
 
“No, no.—Let go! let go! let go-o-o!” roared Sam.
 
Stumps did let go and almost fell from the combined effect of his efforts and despair, as the raft swung off, splashed into the sea far out of reach, and hung half suspended from the yard-arm.
 
“It’s all up with us,” gasped Stumps.
 
“Not yet, but it will be all up with us in two minutes,” returned Sam, unable to repress a smile even at that moment.
 
“What d’ye mean?” said Stumps in amazement. “How can we ever git at it now?”
 
“Why, stoopid,” said Slagg, “don’t you see that we’ve only to go up the mast, out on the yard-arm, and slip down the rope.”
 
While he was speaking, Robin, by Sam’s orders, was performing the feat referred to.
 
“Look sharp!” he cried, turning to the others.
 
A heavy lurch of the ship caused their breasts to leap almost as fast as their bodies, for they were all more or less aware of the danger of the ship sinking before they could get clear of her. The darkness, too, was, as we have said, increasing by that time, though it was still light enough to enable them to see what they were about.
 
In a few minutes they all had gained the end of the yard-arm, slipped down the rope, and got upon the raft, but it was difficult to hold on, because at each heave of the ship, the fore-end of the raft was raised quite out of the sea, and then let fall with considerable violence. As soon as Sam reached it, he bade Robin cut adrift with his axe, so great was the heave; but at the moment the raft hung almost perpendicularly in the air, and Robin could do nothing but cling to the rope that bound it. Next instant it again fell flat on the sea.
 
“Now—cut!” cried Sam.
 
The rope was severed with one blow; almost at the same instant the stern of the Triton flew up with a degree of violence that no wave could account for. It was her last fling. Instantly after she went down head foremost. The masts, by good fortune, leaned away from the raft at the time, else they would have been struck by the yards, or involved in the rigging. As it was they did not escape. The vast whirlpool caused by the sinking ship drew them in with irresistible power. For one moment the horrified youths saw a dark green vortex towards which they rushed. Another moment, and they beheld a green funnel whirling round them as they sank into midnight darkness, while an ocean of roaring water filled their ears.
 
Who shall attempt to describe, the feelings or sensations of that moment! The one absorbing idea of self-preservation was of course dominant, coupled with an intolerable feeling that the upper air could never be regained.
 
It was reached, however, by all of them. First by Sam Shipton, who shot waist-high above the sea with a loud gasp, and struck out wildly. Then, recovering presence of mind, he swam more gently, and looked eagerly round. He was immediately followed by Robin and Slagg. Last of all by Stumps, who came up legs foremost, and, on turning other end up, saluted them with a roar that would not have shamed a monster of the deep. But the roar was cut short by a gurgle, as, in his frantic struggles, he sank himself again.
 
Observing this, and seeing that the others were comparatively self-possessed, Sam made towards his drowning comrade. The poor fellow, catching............