The _Halbrane_ that he loved so much was now an unknown quantity! Yes, our stout-hearted mate wept.
Three of our men had perished, and in what frightful fashion! I had seen Rogers and Gratian, two of our most faithful sailors, stretch out their hands in despair as they were knocked about by the rebounding of the schooner, and finally sink with her! The other man from the Falklands, an American, was crushed in its rush; his shapeless form lay in a pool of blood.

Three new victims within the last ten days had to be inscribed on the register of those who died during this fatal voyage! Ah! fortune had favoured us up to the hour when the _Halbrane_ was snatched from her own element, but her hand was now against us.

And was not this last the worst blow--must it not prove the stroke of death?
The silence was broken by a tumult of despairing voices, whose despair was justified indeed by this irreparable misfortune! And I am sure that more than one thought it would have been better to have been on the _Halbrane_ as she rebounded off the side of the iceberg! Everything would have been over then, as all was over with Rogers and Gratian! This foolish expedition would thus have come to a conclusion worthy of such rashness and imprudence! At last, the instinct of self-preservation triumphed, and except Hearne, who stood some distance off and affected silence, all the men shouted: "To the boat! to the boat!" These unfortunate fellows were out of their mind.

Terror led them astray.

They rushed towards the crag where our one boat (which could not hold them all) had been sheltered during the unloading of the schooner.
Captain Len Guy and Jem West rushed after them.