The wreck was creaking in every timber, and each wave that burst over her, deluging us on the other side, threatened to break her in pieces.

One mast already was broken short, and hung helplessly down, held only by her rigging to the deck.

The other looked as though it might go any moment, and perhaps carry the wreck with it.
If she were to capsize now, what would become of us?
It seemed ages before our men reappeared.
One of them shouted down-- "There's twenty.

Germans." "Any women ?" "Two." "Look sharp with them." We could see a cloaked figure lifted on to the bulwarks of the wreck and held there.

A wave had just passed.