a
body. Not all religion, like her father, for then 'twas like a vessel
loaded down wi' ballast--took a gale o' wind to stir her, and a vessel
o' that kind was no mortal use whatever--except mayhap for a lightship
or something o' that kind.

The sea by now was coming inboard regularly, and Bess knew she should
be carrying less sail; but it would mean a lot of time to reef the
mainsail, and if she was to get on there was small time for reefing,
'specially as the wind was hauling to the east. A beat home now, as
Captain Leary warned her, 'twould be. Surely she would never be home by
daylight now. And colder now it was. Ay, it was. She drew the tarpaulin
over her knees, and that helped to keep off the spray which, as it
splashed up from her bows, was carried aft in sheets before every
squall.

And those squalls were frequent. And little pellets of hail were
thickening the air. And over the tarpaulin that covered her the ice was
making. Sailin' by the wind, 'tis terrible cold. She was becoming
drowsy--hard work to keep from falling asleep. Good enough for her--ay,
good enough, her father would say--dancin' half the night and carryin'
messages to strangers the other half.

The air softened and that was some relief; but in place of the awful
cold--and still cold enough--was now the snow. And in that snow-storm,
with the wind continually veering, she knew at last she must have run
off her course; for the sound of the surf beating against the rocks came
to her.

And what would that be? What now? Ay, Shark's Fin Ledge it must be. She
must ha' sailed wi' too free a sheet, arter all. Ay, she must ha'. Time
to come about now. But not so much sail on! Well, sail or no sail, it
was time to come about. About she was comin'--ay--she was--no!--ay----

Over came the boom, and then high it skied, and then the wind took it
and slit the sail from boom to gaff and off to leeward went the sloop.

Too much sheet that time, thought poor Bess, and could have cried at
herself. And might have cried if she had nothing else to do. But no time
now. Her little sloop was rolling and pitching in the seas, and
drifting, always drifting; and in that snow there was no seeing how fast
she was drifting in to the ledge; but fast enough, no doubt.

No use wailing over it. Bess took to bailing, and the work kept her from
thinking overmuch of herself; only she couldn't help picturing her
father with his Bible, and her stepmother waiting up for her. And