are nearing the ship; his heart beats wildly; 'tis their only chance for
life! the hurricane has burst upon them! the enraged deep responds
loudly to the deafening roar! Once again the feeble voice of the cannon
is doing its best to be heard, when lo! the flash mingling with the
forked lightnings which play in the rigging, reveals the men, as they
come tumbling over the ship's side! They are saved! saved by that noble
boy, who does not know of their approach, so intent is he upon his
exertions, until Sampson clasps him in his arms, and a "God bless you!"
is upon the lips of every man, save the captain, who, having received a
slight wound from a harpoon, and irritated by their bad luck, utters a
curse which vies in blackness with that dreadful night.

"Down your helm!" shouted the captain; "hard down your helm!" The order
was hardly given, when they were thrown on their beam ends; down, down
they went, as if never to rise again, completely engulfed in the dark
abyss! The boy, where is he? down in the hold, his arm made fast to the
collar of old Neptune, that they may go down together; he kneels, his
mother's gift, the bible, in his hand, calmly awaiting his time. Nature
seems terrified, yet that boy knows no fear. Crash succeeds crash; ah,
who can describe the scene! He alone who has stood upon the frail plank,
which only separates him from death. Again a terrific crash,--their
masts have gone by the board! It would seem that the enraged billows
were bent upon their destruction. Still their stout bark is unwilling to
give up, and trembling from stem to stern, she clings to life, nobly
resisting the gigantic attacks of the storm-king, who, having fought
with terrific fierceness through the livelong night, puts on a less
demon-like expression as his strength is well nigh spent, and the gray
dawn sees no traces of the despoiler, who perhaps has slain thousands,
save the swelling surges, which angrily gaze as if disappointed of
their prey.