He laughed with a savage irony that was not good to hear, but c.o.ke caught at the suggestion.

"Even that is better'n tearin' one another like mad dogs," he growled.

"I know wot's comin'. I've seen it wonst."

Hozier made for the exit, where Marcel stood, irresolute, apparently waiting for orders.

"Where are you going?" demanded De Sylva.

"To see what is becoming of the lifeboat."

"Better not. You cannot help your friend, and the instant it becomes known to the troops that there is a living soul on the Grand-pere rock they will come in a steam launch and shoot everyone at sight."

"Will that be the answer to our signal?"

It was Iris who asked the question, and the Brazilian's voice softened again.

"Yes," he said.

"Why, then, do you advise us to seek our own destruction?"

He bowed. His manner was almost humble.

"It is the easier way," he murmured.

"Is there no other?"

"None--unless we attack two hundred soldiers with sticks, and stones, and three revolvers, and a sword."

Hozier came back. He had merely stepped a pace or two into the sunlight. Through the northerly dip of the gulley he had seen the ship's boat whirled past an islet by the fierce current. Macfarlane was not visible. Perhaps that was better so. At any rate, the sight of the small craft vanishing behind one of the island barriers brought home with telling force the predicament of those who remained. Now that the sheer frenzy of the wreck had relaxed, Philip's head was like to split with the throbbing anguish of the blow he had received. But his mind was clearer. De Sylva's words, amplifying his own vague recollection of the scene on board the _Andromeda_, enabled him to construct a picture of events as they were. And his blood boiled when he thought of Iris, s.n.a.t.c.hed many times from death, only to face it once more in the ravening form of starvation and thirst.

"Attack!" he said hoa.r.s.ely. "How is that possible? A deep and wide channel separates us from the main island."

The Brazilian, who seemed to have argued himself into a state of stoic despair, gave a startling answer.

"We have a boat, a sort of boat," he said quietly.

"How many will it hold?"

"Three, in a smooth sea, and with skilled handling. It nearly overturned when I and two others crossed from the island, a distance of three hundred yards."

"But we have ropes, clothes, perhaps some few pieces of wreckage. Can nothing be done to repair it?"

"Meaning that we draw lots to see who shall endeavor to escape to-night?"

"The men might even do that."

"Ah, yes--the men, of course. I think it hopeless. But, try it! Yes, certainly, try it!"

A pause, more eloquent than the most impa.s.sioned speech, showed how this frail straw, eddying in the vortex of their fate, might yet be clutched at. San Benavides, trying vainly to guess what was being said, blurted forth an anxious inquiry. His compatriot explained briefly. Somehow, the measured cadence of their talk had a less reliable sound than the vigorous Anglo-Saxon. They were both brave men. They had not scrupled to risk their lives in an enterprise where success beckoned even doubtingly. But they were lacking when all that remained to be settled was how best to die; in such an hour the men of an English speaking race will ever choose a fighting death.

This time, it was a woman who decided.

Iris rose to her feet. She brushed back the strands of damp hair from her face, and with deft hands made a rough-and-ready coil of her abundant tresses.

"Are you planning to send me with two others adrift in a boat, while seventeen men are left here?" she asked.

The Brazilian ceased speaking. There was another uneasy pause. Hozier felt that the question was addressed to him, but he was tongue-tied, almost shame-faced. c.o.ke, however, did not shirk the task of enlightening her.

"Something like that," he said. "We can't let you cut in with the rest of us, missy. That wouldn't be reasonable. But it's best to fix the business fair an' square. We ain't agoin' to try any other way, not so long as _I'm_ skipper," and he looked with brutal frankness at De Sylva and the anxious but uncomprehending San Benavides.

The ex-President knew what he meant; even in his despondency he resented the implied slur on his good faith.

"You cannot examine the boat until darkness sets in," he said. "Then you will find out how frail a foundation you are building on. It is absolutely ridiculous to a.s.sume that she can be made seaworthy. Her occupants would be drowned before they were clear of the islands."

"In any case, I refuse to go," said Iris.

De Sylva smiled gloomily.

"You are courageous, senhora, and, in some respects, you are wise," he said. "Yet . . . I must admit it . . . I would urge you to select the boat--in preference . . ."

Marcel, the Brazilian who had come to tell them of the drifting life-boat, turned away from the mouth of the cavern, and scrambled down the ravine.

"Wot's 'e after?" demanded c.o.ke, suddenly suspicious.

"He and Domingo are keeping a lookout," said De Sylva. "If the soldiers intend to visit us we should at least be warned. The boat is hidden among the rocks on the landward side," he added, not without a touch of scorn.

"That man has taught us our own duty," cried Iris. "The boat that brought these men to this rock can bring nineteen men and a woman to Fernando Noronha. We must land there to-night. With those to guide us who know the coast, surely that should be possible. We have a right to struggle for our lives. We, of the _Andromeda_, at least, have done no wrong to the cruel wretches who sought to kill us without mercy to-day.

Why should we not endeavor to defend ourselves? There is food there, and guns in plenty. Let us take them. Above all, let us not dream of any such useless device as this proposal to send three to drown somewhere in the sea and leave seventeen to perish miserably here. We are in G.o.d's hands. Let us trust to Him, but while doing that fully and fearlessly, we must seek life, not death."

"Bully for you, miss!" roared a sailor, and a growl of admiration rang through the cave. Instantly a hubbub of talk showed how intent the crew had been on the previous discussion, but c.o.ke shouted them into silence.

"Oo axed wot _you_ think, you swabs?" he bellowed. "Stow your lip!

Sink me, if you don't all do as you're bid, an' keep still tongues in your 'eds, I'll want to know w'y--P.D.Q."

A big, blond Norwegian, Hans Olsen by name, strode forward. Unlike the usual self-contained Norseman, he was reputed a "sea-lawyer" in the forecastle.

"We haf somedings ter zay for our lifes, yez," he protested. c.o.ke bent and b.u.t.ted him violently in the stomach with his head. The man crashed against the rocky wall, and sat dazed where he had fallen.

"You've got to obey orders--savvy?" growled c.o.ke.

"Yez," gasped Olsen, evidently fearing a further a.s.sault.

The incident ended. Its outstanding feature was the amazing activity displayed by the burly skipper, who had rammed his man before the big fellow could lift a finger. It might be expected that Iris would show some sign of dismay, owing to this unlooked-for violence. But she was now beyond the reach of merely feminine emotions. She had protested against the kicking of Watts because it seemed to lack motive, because Watts was helpless, and because she herself was half-delirious at the time. Olsen's att.i.tude, on the other hand, hinted at mutiny, and mutiny must be repressed at any cost.

De Sylva's incisive accents helped to bridge a moment fraught with possibilities, for it would be idle to a.s.sume that this polyglot gathering was composed of Bayards. Self-preservation is apt to prove stronger than chivalry under such circ.u.mstances. Let it be a.s.sumed that three among the twenty could escape that night, and it was horribly true that the field of selection might be narrowed by a wild-beast struggle long before the sun went down.

"The young lady has at least given us a project," he said. "It is a desperate one, Heaven knows! It offers a fantastic chance, and I can see no other, but--what can we do without arms?"

"Use our heads," put in Hozier. He had not the slightest intention of making a light-hearted joke at that crisis in their affairs, but he happened to look at c.o.ke, and an involuntary smile gleamed through the crust of clotted blood and perspiration that gave his good-looking face a most sinister aspect. The Irishman cackled with laughter.