Nina Forbes laughed, though her teeth chattered with the cold.

"The calm way in which men speak of 'choosing' a wife always amuses me,"

she said. "If any man told me he had 'chosen' me I should feel inclined to box his ears."

"It isn't the best of words," put in Sturgess promptly, "but it conveys a real compliment. A fellow meets a girl, _the_ girl, and some electrical arrangement jangles at the back of his head. 'This is _it_,'

says a voice. 'Go to it, good and hard,' and he goes. That's the only sort of choice he's given. The girl can always turn him down, you know.

Still, she can't help feeling flattered. She says to herself, 'That poor fellow, Charles K. Sturgess, is only a mutt, but he did think me the best ever, so he had good taste.' What do you think, Miss Madge?"

Then he and the others discovered that Madge was crying. The frivolous chatter intended to hide a dread reality had failed in its object. They were shivering with cold again, and ever more conscious of gnawing hunger. The prospect of escape was more than doubtful. Fate seemed to be playing a pitiless game with every soul on board the _Southern Cross_, having swept some to instant death, while retaining others for destruction by idle whim. The renewed darkness, the continuous uproar of the reef, had broken the girl's nerve.

Maseden fancied that he had placed too great a strain on her by detailing with such precision the sequence of events during those crowded hours at Cartagena.

"I think," he said gravely, "that we ought to lie down again, and await patiently the coming of daylight. The sun rises, no matter what else may happen, and dawn cannot be long delayed now."

They obeyed him. They looked to him for guidance, but they were glad he did not call for any effort. Even the light-hearted, apparently irresponsible Sturgess, who, if he had to die, would depart this life with a jest on his lips, was stilled by the sheer hopelessness of their condition.

After one of those hours which seem to belong to eternity rather than to time, a quality of grayness made itself felt in the overwhelming gloom.

Soon the serrated edge of the opposite wall of rock became a fixed and rigid thing against a background of cloud. In this new world of horror and suffering the break of day, to all appearances, came from the west!

This phenomenon was easily explained. Near by, on the east, rose the tremendous peaks of the Andes, so the plain of the sea on the western horizon caught the first shafts of light long before they filtered into the fiords and gorges of the coast-line tucked in at the base of those great hills.

Not that it mattered a jot to those desolate ones where the sun rose that day. They would have given little heed had the earth rolled over on a new axis, and dawn come from the South Pole!

As soon as daylight was sufficiently advanced to render the rock fissures clearly visible, Maseden roused his tiny flock from the stupor of sheer exhaustion. He was a man born to lead, and the necessity to spur on and exhort others proved his own salvation. He was stiff and sore, and his head still ached abominably, but he rose to his feet with an energetic shout that quickened the blood in his hearers' veins.

"Now, folk," he said, "the first order of the day is breakfast, and then strike camp!"

Breakfast! They thought he was crazy. But he took the bottle of brandy from a crevice in which he had lodged it securely overnight, and Sturgess uttered a cackling laugh.

"I'm doing pretty well for a life-long teetotaller," he wheezed. "When a fellow like me falls off the water-wagon, he generally drops with a dull thud, but _I_ must have set up a record. After lunching and dining yesterday on claret, I supped on brandy last night and am about to breakfast on the same.... Girls, help yourself and pass the decanter!"

Maseden held up the bottle to the light. It had never contained more than a pint, and nearly half had gone. A small coin served as a measure to divide the contents into five portions.

"Each of us drinks a _peseta_-worth," he said. "There must be neither half measures nor extra ones. The last _peseta_-worth remains in the bottle. Is that agreed?"

"I want very little, please," said Nina Forbes. "Just enough to moisten my lips and tongue--"

"You're going to do as you're bid," was the gruff answer. "I advise you to sip your portion, by all means, but you _must_ take it. As a penalty for disobedience, you'll start."

She made no further protest, but swallowed her dose meekly. Sister Madge followed. Sturgess was minded to argue, but met Maseden's dour glance, and took his share. The first mouthful of the spirit acted on him like an elixir of life. He drank down to the allotted mark, and handed the bottle to Maseden.

"Now, girls," he chortled, "this is the guy who really needs watching.

If he doesn't play fair let's heave him into the sea."

So three pairs of eyes saw to it that their rescuer had his full allowance. Then the bottle was put away, and the castaways took stock of their surroundings.

At first sight the position was grotesquely disheartening. Beneath, to the left, was the sea. Behind them rose an overhanging wall of rock, which swung round to the right and cut off the ledge. The cleft itself was some twelve feet wide, and the opposite wall rose fully ten feet. In a word, no chamois or mountain goat could have made the transit.

They all surveyed the situation from every point of view afforded by the fifteen feet of ledge. There was no reason to express opinions. Escape, in any direction, looked frankly impossible.

Then Maseden examined the cleft beneath.

"We cannot go up," he said quietly. "In that case, as we certainly don't mean to stay here, I'm going down."

It was feasible, with care, to climb down to sea level, but the huge rollers breaking over the reef sent a heavy backwash against the cliff.

The swirl of water rose and fell three feet at a time, with enough force to throw the strongest man off his balance.

"Do you mean that you intend jumping into the sea, Mr. Maseden?" said Madge Forbes.

She was quite calm now. She put that vital question as coolly as though it implied nothing more than a swimmer's pastime. Their eyes clashed, and, for the first time, the man saw that Madge possessed no small share of Nina's self-control. Her earlier collapse was of the body, not of the soul.

"It doesn't mean that I shall willingly commit suicide," he answered.

"If it comes to that, I suggest that we all go together. I'm merely taking a prospecting trip. There's no way out above. I must see what offers below."

Without another word he sat on the lip of the rock on which they stood, and lowered himself to a tiny ledge which gave foothold. They watched him making his way down. It was no easy climb, but he did not hurry.

Twice he advanced, and climbed a little higher to a point whence descent was more practicable. At last he vanished.

Sturgess, craning his neck over the seaward side of their narrow perch, could not see him, while the growl of the reef shut out all minor sounds.

Maseden was not long absent, but the three people whom he had left confessed afterwards that of all the nerve-racking experiences they had undergone since the ship struck, that silent waiting was the worst.

At last he reappeared. Nina, farthest up the cleft, was the first to see him, and she cried shrilly:

"Oh, thank God! He's got a rope!"

A rope! Of what avail was a rope? Yet three hearts thrilled with great expectation. Why should Maseden bring a rope? It meant something, some plan, some definite means towards the one great object. They had an abounding faith in him.

The rope was slung around his shoulders in a noose, and he seemed to be tugging at some heavy weight which yielded but slowly to the strain.

When he was still below the level of the ledge he undid the noose and passed it to Sturgess.

"Hold tight!" he shouted. "I've picked up the broken foremast. I'm going down to clear it off the rocks. When I yell, haul away steadily."

They asked no questions. Maseden simply must be right. They listened eagerly for the signal, and put all their strength to the task when it came.

Soon the truck of the foremast appeared. Then the full length of the spar could be seen, with Maseden guiding it. He had tied the rope at a point about one-third of the length from the truck. When it was poised so that lifting alone was required he shouted to them to stop, and rejoined them, breathless, but bright-eyed.

"There's no means of escape by the sea," he explained, "so we must try the cliff. This is our bridge. I think it will span the gully. Anyhow, it is worth trying."

Then they understood, and measuring glances were cast from spar to opposing crest. It would be a close thing, but, as Maseden said, it was certainly worth trying.

In a minute, or less, the broken mast was standing up-ended on the ledge. Then, with its base jammed into a crevice, it was lowered by the rope across the chasm. It just touched the top of the rock wall.

They actually cheered, but the women's hearts missed a couple of beats when Maseden began to climb again. He worked his way upward without haste, found a toe-grip on the rock, raised himself carefully, and again disappeared from sight.

This time he was not so long away. He looked down on them with a confident smile.

"There's a chance," he said. "A ghost of a chance. Now I'm coming back!"