There, I've stopped it up with a finger; it's where his bullet must have gone through.

Got your handkerchief ?" "Yes." "Tear off a piece, to make a plug about twice as big as a physic-bottle cork." There was the sound of tearing, and then Mike handed the piece of cotton, which was carefully thrust into the clean, round hole, effectually plugging it; after which Vince proposed that they should each take an oar.
"Can't row," said Mike shortly.
"No, but we may want to fend her off from a rock.

Hullo! where are the lanthorns now?
I can't see either the lugger or the boat." Mike looked back, but nothing was visible.
"We've come round some rock," said Vince.

"We shall see them again directly." But the minutes glided on, and they saw no light--all was black around as ever, but the loud, hissing gurgle of the water told that they were being borne along by some furious current; and at last came that which they had been expecting--a heavy bump, as the prow struck against a rock-face so heavily that they were both jerked forward on to their hands, while the boat was jarred from stem to stern.
They listened with a feeling of expectant awe for the noise of water rushing in; but none came, and a little feeling about was sufficient test to prove that there was no more than had come in through the bullet hole.

But while they were waiting there came another heavy blow, and their state of helplessness added to their misery.
"Oh, if it was only light!" groaned Mike.
"Yes, we could use the oars or hook to fend her off." Bump went the boat again, and they caught at the side to save themselves, conscious now, in the thick darkness, that they were being whirled round and round in some great whirlpool-like eddy, which dealt with the boat as if it were a cork.
"Don't seem as if we can do anything," said Vince at last, as the boat swept along, with the water lapping and gurgling about them just as if it were full of hungry tongues anticipating the feast to come as soon as they were sucked down.
"No," said Mike, "it doesn't seem as if we can do anything." "'Cept one thing, Mike," said Vince in a low deep tone, which did not sound like his own voice.
"What ?" "Say our prayers--for the last time." And in the midst of that intense darkness, black as ebony on either side, while above and below there were still the bright glittering and softened streaks of light, there was an interval of solemn silence.
Vince was the first to break that silence, and there was something quite cheerful in his tones now as he said,-- "Shake hands, Mikey: I'm sorry you and I haven't always been good friends.