The men were worn out by the hard duty of the preceding fortnight; and,
though they did their best, the boat made little more way than the tide.
This was a long chase; and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering as he saw how
little we gained, cried out--

"Pull, lads--I'll double the captain's prize. Pull, lads, for the sake
of mercy, pull!"

A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the men were to obey,
but their strength was gone. One of the poor fellows splashed us twice
in recovering his oar, and then gave out; the other was nearly as far
gone. Mr. Larkin sprung forward and seized the deserted oar.

"Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he to the man; "and, captain,
take the other oar; we must row for ourselves." I took the second man's
place.

Larkin had stripped to his Guernsey shirt; as he pulled the bow I waited
the signal stroke. It came gently, but firmly; and the next moment we
were pulling a long, steady stroke, gradually increasing in rapidity
until the wood seemed to smoke in the oar-locks.

We kept time with each other by our long, deep breathing. Such a pull!
At every stroke the boat shot ahead like an arrow. Thus we worked at the
oars for fifteen minutes--it seemed to me as many hours.

"Have we almost come to it, Mr. Larkin?" I asked.

"Almost, captain,--don't give up: for the love of our dear little ones
at home, don't give up, captain," replied Larkin.

The oars flashed as the blades turned up to the moonlight. The men who
plied them were fathers, and had fathers' hearts; the strength which
nerved them at that moment was more than human.

Suddenly Mr. Larkin stopped pulling, and my heart for a moment almost
ceased its beating; for the terrible thought that he had given out
crossed my mind. But I was quickly reassured by his saying--

"Gently, captain, gently--a stroke or two more--there, that will
do"--and the next moment the boat's side came in contact with something.

Larkin sprung from the boat upon the ice. I started up, and, calling
upon the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed.

We ran to the dark spot in the centre of the mass, and found two little
boys--the head of the smaller nestling in the bosom of the larger. Both
were fast asleep!

They were benumbed with cold, and would surely have frozen to death, but
for our timely rescue.

Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, tore off his
jacket; and then, loosening his own garments to the skin, placed