His uncle also had died in the sea; all the most vigorous members of the family had finally perished in its bosom.

For centuries and centuries it had been the tomb of the Ferraguts; with good reason they had called it "_mare nostrum_." He fancied that the currents might possibly have dragged his uncle's dead body from the other promontory to the place over which he was floating.

Perhaps he might be now beneath his feet....

An irresistible force was pulling at them; his paralyzed hands loosened their hold on the wood.
"Uncle!...

Uncle!" In his thoughts he was shrieking to his relative with the timorous plaint of the little fellow taking his first swimming lesson.