after), which is ever at work building walls and
ramparts on the bottom of the sea. These rise by degrees to the
surface,--rise above it--and finally become some of the fairest isles of
the Pacific. Charts tell of the isles, but no charts can tell the
locality of coral reefs which have just, or barely, reached the surface.
The _Lively Poll_ was forging slowly ahead under a puff of air that
only bulged her top-sails as she rose and sank on the majestic swell.
Presently she rose high, and was then let down on a coral reef with such
violence that the jury-mast with the main-topmast and all the connected
rigging, went over the side. Another swell lifted her off, and flung
her on the ocean's breast a total wreck.

The scene that followed may be imagined. Whatever could be done by an
able and active seaman in such an emergency was done by Captain Samson.
Water was rushing in through the shattered hull. To pass a sail under
the ship's bottom and check this was the first act. Then the pumps were
rigged and worked by all on board. Besides Ben Trench there were three
gentlemen passengers. These took their turn with the rest, but all was
of no avail. The ship was sinking. The utmost efforts of those whose
lives seemed dependent on her only delayed the final catastrophe.

"There is no hope," said the captain in a low tone to his chief mate, to
whom he gave some rapid orders, and went below.

It was daybreak, and the first gleam of light that leaped over the
glassy sea tinged the golden curls of Polly Samson as she lay sleeping
on one of the cabin sofas. She awoke and started up.

"Lie still, darling, and rest as long as you may," said the captain in a
low tender voice, "and pray, Polly, pray for us again. God is able to
save to the uttermost, my pet."

He said this without pausing, as he went to his berth and brought out a
sextant, with which he returned on deck.

Standing near the foot of the companion-ladder, Watty Wilkins had heard
the words, "There is no hope," and the few sentences addressed to the
child. His impressionable spirit leapt to the conclusion that the fate
of all on board was sealed. He knew that the boats had all been swept
away, and a feeling of profound despair seized him. This was quickly
followed by contrition for his past conduct and pity for his father,
under the impulse of which he sat down in a corner of the steward's
pantry and groaned aloud. Then he wrote a few lines in pencil on a