But neither skill, nor courage, nor obedience could avail;
all was in vain. Despite the strain put upon her engine,
the schooner, bare of canvas (for not even the smallest stay-sail
could have withstood the violence of the storm), was drifting with
terrific speed towards the menacing precipices, which were only a.
few short miles to leeward. Fully alive to the hopelessness
of their situation, the crew were all on deck.

"All over with us, sir!" said Procope to the count.
"I have done everything that man could do; but our case
is desperate. Nothing short of a miracle can save us now.
Within an hour we must go to pieces upon yonder rocks."

"Let us, then, commend ourselves to the providence of Him
to Whom nothing is impossible," replied the count, in a calm,
clear voice that could be distinctly heard by all; and as he spoke,
he reverently uncovered, an example in which he was followed
by all the rest.

The destruction of the vessel seeming thus inevitable,
Lieutenant Procope took the best measures he could to insure
a few days' supply of food for any who might escape ashore.
He ordered several cases of provisions and kegs of water to be
brought on deck, and saw that they were securely lashed to some
empty barrels, to make them float after the ship had gone down.

Less and less grew the distance from the shore, but no creek,
no inlet, could be discerned in the towering wall of cliff,
which seemed about to topple over and involve them in annihilation.
Except a change of wind or, as Procope observed, a supernatural