Ferragut shot out like a projectile, falling in the foaming whirlpools and having the impression, as he sank, that men and casks together were rolling and raining into the sea.
He saw bubbling streaks of white and black hulks.

He felt himself impelled by contradictory forces.

Some dragged at his head and others at his feet in different directions, making him revolve like the hands of a clock.

Even his thoughts were working double.

"It is useless to resist," Discouragement was murmuring in his brain, while his other half was affirming desperately, "I do not want to die!...