Stumbling figures in the darkness moved about the deck, shouting and calling; there was no sign of the two officers. The stricken ship continued to lift and drop in an agonising grind, and Kydd's heart wrung in anguish at the torment even as he reached for reality to long-familiar deck fitments.
On the fo'c'sle there was a focus of movement, and Kydd felt drawn to the scene, the only evidence of intelligence in the insanity. He fought and clambered over the heaving wreckage towards it. As he did so Artemis was set upon by ferocious seas around her stern. Her fine run counter was slammed from under by their attack and as Kydd passed the stump of the mainmast, her keel gave way. Twisted by the great forces working at her vitals, the after end of the ship broke in a series of shattering claps of thunder. The stern portion fell at a different angle from the forward -the decking just behind Kydd splintered across and a void opened. The forward part remained immovable on the rocks but the after fell away with a stupendous cracking, a series of lurches now quite independent of the forward. Men clutching the deck on the stern saw their doom - some slid into the ravening chaos between the two, others were still clinging desperately as Artemis's stern-quarters slid backwards into the violence. Kydd's mind froze in deathly fear; unable to move, hypnotised at the awesome scene.
There were scores of bodies in the water now, tumbled and rolled by the contemptuous seas. Released by the breaking hull, these had been the ones asleep below; death had been forced on them instantly. They would have had not the slightest warning of the streaming black rocks that had brutally broken in on them.
The after part quickly receded, sinking as it did so. The few remaining souls leaped or fell into the water. They had no chance at all; smothered by foaming seas, battered by the pieces of black wreckage spewing obscenely from the innards of the ship, they were swept into the outer darkness.
Kydd tore his eyes from the sight and seized hold of his courage. He resumed his scramble forward, crying with grief at the hideous end of his ship and the loss of his friends. Artemis was now a dismembered corpse, lying distorted and still, her bowsprit and rags of headsails spearing up poignantly, pointing at the distant shore. He reached the knot of men on the fo'c'sle. There was no sign of recognition, they were nameless figures working despairingly on the wreckage with their knives. They were trying to bind gratings and planking with ropes to make a raft, but with only their seamen's knives they could make little progress. Kydd did not have his knife, as iron implements were not permitted near the compass. He fell back and hung from the forebitts in utter despair, looking across the white-streaked, rampaging seas rolling shorewards.
A hand clutched at him from behind, and he turned ready to fight off a mindless soul, but found himself staring at Renzi. He gripped his friend for long moments, aware of Renzi's wild, disordered state. Emotion cascaded through him.
Renzi leaned forward and shouted at him, 'Lash ourselves - wait until daybreak!' Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded, and accepted the fall of a clewline cut off by Renzi. The new day would not change things, but at least they could face directly whatever was due to them.
The night wore on in a daze of cold and fear, but at about four, just as a reluctant cold dawn hinted at light, the carcass of Artemis shifted, grinding around to a new angle. The movement destroyed the temporary feeling of security that her motionless wedging on the rock ledge had provided, and at an hour before dawn it was clear that the end would not be long delayed.
Kydd unlashed himself — there was no point in being dragged down by the sinking wreckage — but Renzi pulled him round to face him. 'We must jump,' he said. His voice was strong and even, although his body shuddered with the cold. 'I would take it kindly, dear friend, if you would consent to taking the end of this line.' He was requesting that they be linked by a rope when they made their final leap. Kydd's eyes stung, a lump in his throat at the unfairness of it all, the unreadable harshness of fate, but he took the line and secured it to himself. 'We have shared . . .' began Renzi, but did not finish. Kydd nodded and looked away.
A long, grinding rumble sounded beneath them, and the deck juddered and moved. A sudden lurch came, which sent Kydd staggering, and it was time. They slid to the ship's side, clambered to the rail — and leapt into the sea.
The water closed over Kydd, rushing and roaring in his ears, the sea strangely warm out of the cold blast of the gale. He kicked and flailed, then broke surface, briefly aware of the black bulk of Artemis close by, then was whirled away, spluttering and helpless. There was no question of swimming; he could feel himself in the grip of strong waves that surged and pulled at him. He became entangled in the rope that joined him to Renzi, but it was too chaotic even to know if Renzi was still attached. The tops of waves swept over him without warning and he choked on sea-water. His clothes began to hang as a dead weight, and he knew that he was going down. Thrashing desperately at the water, he breathed in the salty foam, his throat raw and burning as he began to sink.