FROM FAFA TO SAY 259 pilot, and Digui alone of all my men was really worthy to be trusted at the helm.

We fortified ourselves with a good cup of coffee, feeling that it might be our last, and the Davoitst started, Baudry following us in a canoe.

The scene before us was very much what it had been the day before — a narrow pass, a diabolical current producing an impression of unfathomable depth, which made our hearts sink and our breath come in gasps. On either side the water whirled and surged and roared unceasingly as it dashed over the huge rocks. Suddenly there was a tremendous shock, and the boat seemed to slide away from under our feet. It was the Davousfs turn to-day. A hidden rock had battered a hole in her bow in my cabin. Through the gap, some 20 inches big, the water came in in floods, and in less than ten seconds it was a couple of feet deep.

But it was written in the book of fate that we were to go down to the sea in the Davoiist, and in spite of all our misfortunes, in spite of everything being against us, in spite of reason, in spite of logic, something always turned up to save us even at what seemed the very last moment. The expected miracle always happened, and it is no exaggeration to say that we experienced dozens of such miracles.

We were going at such a rate when we struck the rock that for one instant the barge remained as it were suspended on it, but the next it was over it and in deep water again.

It so happened, as good luck would have it, that my servant Mamd was in my cabin when the boat struck, and the water rushed in at his very feet.

For the brave fellow to tear off his burnous, roll it into a ball and shove it into the gap in the planks was the work of a few seconds ; that is to say, of just the time