e the tumult of
sea and sky.

After a while we grew very hungry, not having broken our fast since
early in the day. The rain had turned the hard-tack into a sort of
dough; but it was better than nothing.

We used to laugh at Fred Langdon for always carrying in his pocket a
small vial of essence of peppermint or sassafras, a few drops of which,
sprinkled on a lump of loaf-sugar, he seemed to consider a great luxury.
I do not know what would have become of us at this crisis if it had not
been for that omnipresent bottle of hot stuff. We poured the stinging
liquid over our sugar, which had kept dry in a sardine-box, and warmed
ourselves with frequent doses.

After four or five hours the rain ceased, the wind died away to a moan,
and the sea--no longer raging like a maniac--sobbed and sobbed with a
piteous human voice all along the coast. And well it might, after that
night's work. Twelve sail of the Gloucester fishing fleet had gone down
with every soul on board, just outside of Whale's-Back Light. Think of
the wide grief that follows in the wake of one wreck; then think of the
despairing women who wrung their hands and wept, the next morning, in
the streets of Gloucester, Marblehead, and Newcastle!

Though our strength was nearly spent, we were too cold to sleep. Once
I sunk into a troubled doze, when I seemed to hear Charley Marden's
parting words, only it was the Sea that said them. After that I threw
off the drowsiness whenever it threatened to overcome me.

Fred Langdon was the earliest to discover a filmy, luminous streak in
the sky, the first glimmering of sunrise.

"Look, it is nearly daybreak!"

While we were following the direction of his finger, a sound of distant
oars fell upon our ears.

We listened breathlessly; and as the dip of the blades became more
audible, we discerned two foggy lights, like will-o'-the-wisps, floating
on the river.

Running down to the water's edge, we hailed the boats with all
our might. The call was heard, for the oars rested a moment in the
row-locks, and then pulled in towards the island.

It was two boats from the town, in the foremost of which we could now
make out the figures of Captain Nutter and Binny Wallace's father. We
shrunk back on seeing him.

"Thank God!" cried Mr. Wallace fervently, as he leaped from the wherry
without waiting for the bow to touch the beach.

But when he saw only three boys standing on the sands, his eye wandered
restlessly about in ques