present to his mind; and seemed written in fire on the night of clouds,
and howled in his ears by the wind--Retribution!

And now came a dirty night--to men on ships; a fearful night to men in
boats. The sky black, the sea on fire with crested billows, that broke
over them every minute; their light was washed out; their provisions
drenched and spoiled; bail as they would, the boat was always filling. Up
to their knees in water; cold as ice, blinded with spray, deafened with
roaring billows, they tossed and tumbled in a fiery foaming hell of
waters, and still, though despairing, clung to their lives, and bailed
with their hats unceasingly.

Day broke, and the first sight it revealed to them was a brig to windward
staggering along, and pitching under close-reefed topsails.

They started up, and waved their hats, and cried aloud. But the wind
carried their voices to leeward, and the brig staggered on.

They ran up their little signal of distress; but still the ship staggered
on.

Then the miserable men shook hands all round, and gave themselves up for
lost.

But, at this moment, the brig hoisted a vivid flag all stripes and stars,
and altered her course a point or two.

She crossed the boat's track a mile ahead, and her people looked over the
bulwarks, and waved their hats to encourage those tossed and desperate
men.