possible desire to save you. Stay where you are, and you will be all
right. That overloaded boat may capsize in half an hour."

[Illustration: "'DON'T YOU DO IT.'"]

I could not help it; I believed him. My own judgment seemed suddenly to
rise up and ask me why I should leave the solid deck of the steamer for
that perilous little boat.

I need say but little more in regard to this shipwreck. When the fog
lifted, about ten o'clock in the morning, we could see no signs of any
of the boats. A mile or so away lay the dull black line of the derelict,
as if she were some savage beast who had bitten and torn us, and was
now sullenly waiting to see us die of the wound. We hoisted a flag,
union down, and then we went below to get some breakfast. Mr. Crowder
knew all about the ship, and where to find everything. He told me he
had made so many voyages that he felt almost as much at home on sea
as on land. We made ourselves comfortable all day, and at night we went
to our rooms, and I slept fairly well, although there was a very
disagreeable slant to my berth. The next day, early in the afternoon,
our signal of distress was seen by a tramp steamer on her way to
New York, and we were taken off.

We cruised about for many hours in the direction the boats had probably
taken, and the next day we picked up two of them in a sorry condition,
the occupants having suffered many hardships and privations. We never
had news of the captain's boat, but the others were rescued by a
sailing-vessel going eastward.

Before we reached New York, Mr. Crowder had made me promise that I