above, every individual on board thought that the ship was
foundering--at least all the landsmen were fully impressed with that
idea.

Mr. Stevenson could not remain below any longer. As soon as the ship
again began to range up to the sea, he made another effort to get on
deck. Before going, however, he went through the various apartments,
in order to ascertain the state of things below.

Groping his way in darkness from his own cabin, he came to that of
the officers of the ship. Here all was quiet, as well as dark. He
next entered the galley and other compartments occupied by the
artificers; here also all was dark, but not quiet, for several of the
men were engaged in prayer, or repeating psalms in a full tone of
voice, while others were protesting that if they should be fortunate
enough to get once more ashore, no one should ever see them afloat
again; but so loud was the creaking of the bulk-heads, the dashing of
water, and the whistling noise of the wind, that it was hardly
possible to distinguish words or voices.

The master of the vessel accompanied Mr. Stevenson, and, in one or
two instances, anxious and repeated enquiries were made by the
workmen as to the state of things on deck, to all of which he
returned one characteristic answer--"It can't blow long in this way,
lads; we _must_ have better weather soon."

The next compartment in succession, moving forward, was that allotted
to the seamen of the ship. Here there was a characteristic difference
in the scene. Having reached the middle of the darksome berth without
the inmates being aware of the intrusion, the anxious engineer was