By dawn of the next day the storm was over, for that gray-back had been
one of those climaxes in which nature seems to delight; and, having done
its worst, the winds hushed their fury, and wailed away into a chill,
sullen, but clearing morning.

The remainder of the fleet, scattered in every direction by the storm,
did not discover the absence of the Nautilus till mid-forenoon, when
bits of wreckage, into which they sailed, soon told the pitiful story.
Towards noon two bodies were found, that of the captain and steersman,
afloat in the pilot-house, but no more; the fate of Reuben, the boy, and
the three other hands could only be conjectured.

The next day the drowned men were given honorable burial; and many of
the remaining vessels, having been almost disabled by the fury of the
elements, had to make for the nearest port for repairs.

Then came a fair and "lucky" run, in which not a hand could be spared to
carry the news home, for these fishermen learn to look almost with
contempt upon death and disaster. Many a poor fellow with a broken limb
must go days, even weeks, before he can reach a physician; and the
friends on shore are left as long in ignorance of their fate.

Nearly a month had passed, then, since that awful night, when Jasper
Norris, dreading his task as he had never dreaded any physical danger in
his life, walked down the village street toward Sara and Morton in the
cottage doorway.

The former watched him with a growing feeling of suffocation and
tightness about her throat and heart, for the droop of his figure was
ominous.