hink you were fortunate to escape with your lives," I added.

"I know we were, Captain--I don't know your name any better than you
did mine; and it strikes me that you are a very young fellow to be in
command of a steamer, though she is a very small one."

"My name is Alexander Garningham, and I am generally called Captain
Alick. I have been on the water most of the time since I was ten years
old, either on the sea or on the great lakes. I have had as rough a
time on Lake Superior as we had last night, if not a rougher." I told
my story as briefly as I could.

"Your education has not been neglected, Captain Alick," continued
Captain Mayfield. "If you had not managed the Sylvania so well last
night, most of us must have perished; for I have no doubt that the
Olive went to pieces before midnight. She was a well-built vessel, but
rather old. The gale kept forcing her up to the sharp coral rocks, and
she was grinding off her timbers at a very rapid rate when we left her.
If there had been any chance for her I would not have left her. I had
reduced sail at dark, when it began to freshen into a gale. We had the
wind on the beam, and the bark was behaving very well."

"It began to blow the heaviest about six bells," I added.

"We did not get the worst of it. We had the foretop-mast staysail, fore
and main topsails, and the spanker set. The Gulf Stream was with us,
and we were making not less than ten knots an hour. I expected soon to
see Carysfort Light. Our course was north, a quarter east, and I had no
doubt I was making it good."

"I am afraid not."

"Of course I know now that I did not make it good; but I can't see any
reason why I did not."

"I can," I interposed. "It was for the same reason that we were drifted
so far to the northward and westward. When the wind comes strong from
an easterly direction the current of the Gulf Stream is partly turned
to the westward."

"I have read that in the Coast Pilot; but I have been through these
waters so many times without noticing anything of the kind, that I did
not think of it last night. The first hint I had that anything was
wrong was when the Olive struck on the rocks. I knew from the sound of
the crash that she had stove a hole in her bow. She flew back, and then
the wind jammed her on again. I sent hands aloft to furl the topsails,
and others to haul down the jib and take in the spanker. But she drove
on the rocks all the same; and I knew that would be the end of