"That's better," said the doctor, patting my back. "Make haste and help
your sister. Yes, Miss Sylvia, shove it all in." And then he began to
drag the blankets from our berths.

"The leddies ready? Leddies fust!" And down tumbled a sailor for the
trunk.

Up the companion-ladder for the last time, the doctor prodding me in the
back with his load of blankets. Sylvia, with a white face, carrying a
little hand-bag. And the captain coming to meet us in the doorway.

"This one first." And I was picked up in his arms as if I'd been a baby.
"Ready, Wheeler?" And I was lowered into the first mate's arms, and
placed on a seat in the cutter.

The next thing I knew was that Sylvia was by my side; and that the
doctor was tucking a blanket about our knees. After that four or five
sailors jumped into the boat, and the captain shouted in a frantic
hurry:

"Shove her off!"

The cutter fell astern. The long-boat then came forward, and all the
rest of the sailors crowded in. The captain was left the last.

"Hurry up, sir!" shouted Mr. Wheeler. But the captain had disappeared.
He had run down to his cabin for some papers.

"She's full of water!" cried one of the sailors in the long boat. And as
he spoke the _May Queen stopped dead, and shook_.

With a yell one of the men cut the rope that held the long-boat to the
ship, and shoved off like lightning from the sinking vessel.

Only in time.

The next moment the _May Queen_ pitched gently forward. Her bows went
under water.

"Captain!" shrieked the sailors in a deafening chorus.

Then her stern settled down. The sea parted in a great gulf. The waves
rolled over her upper deck. And with her sails all spread the _May
Queen_ went down into the abyss.

A hoarse cry burst from every throat; and the boats danced on the
bubbling, foaming water. The sailors stood up all ready to save him,
crying to each other that he'd come to the surface soon. But he never
did.

They rowed all round and round the spot, but not a vestige of the
captain did we see.

"Sucked under--by Heaven!" cried the first mate in a tone of horror.

And we were adrift on the Pacific.

ADRIFT ON THE PACIFIC.

BY ALICE F. JACKSON.

I.

The captain was drowned, and the _May Queen_ was wrecked, and we were
adrift on the ocean. Adrift in a cockle-shell of an open boat more than
six hundred miles from land! No--_no_! It's some horrible nightmare!

For the first few moments everybody sat benumbed, st