On returning to the helm the second time,
Tommy felt that this state of things could not go on much longer. The
excitement, the watching, the horrors of the past night were beginning
to tell on him. His muscles were exhausted, and he felt an irresistible
desire to sleep. He struggled against this till about noon, by which
time the wind had moderated to a steady breeze, and the sun shone
through the mist as if to cheer him up a little.

He had eaten nothing for many hours, as he did not dare to quit his post
to go below for food, lest the schooner should come suddenly on some
other vessel and be run down. Hunger and exhaustion, however, soon
rendered him desperate; he ran below, seized a handful of biscuit,
filled a can with water, and returned hastily on deck to break his fast.
It was one of the sweetest meals he ever ate, and refreshed him so much
that he was able to go on alternately steering and pumping till late in
the afternoon. Then he suddenly broke down. Exhausted nature could
bear up no longer. He lashed the helm, pumped out the water in the hold
for the last time, and went below to rest.

He was half asleep as he descended the companion-ladder. A strange and
sad yet dreamy feeling that everything he did was "for the last time,"
weighed heavily on his spirit, but this was somehow relieved by the
knowledge that he was now at last about to _rest_! There was delight in
that simple thought, though there mingled with it a feeling that the
rest would terminate in death; he lay down to sleep with a feeling that
he lay down to die, and a half-formed prayer escaped his lips as his
wearied head fell upon the pillow.

Instantly he was buried in deep repose.

The sun sank in the ocean, the stars came out and spangled all the sky,
and the moon rose and sank again, but Tommy lay, regardless of
everything, in profound slumber. Again the sun arose on a sea so calm
that it seemed like oil, ascended into the zenith, and sank towards its
setting. Still the boy continued to sleep, his young head resting
quietly on the pillow of the dead skipper; his breath coming gently and
regularly through the half-opened lips that smiled as if he were resting
in peace on his mother's bosom.

Being dashed on the rocks, or run into by steamers, or whelmed in the
waves, were ideas that troubled him not, or, if they did, they were
connected only with the land of dreams. Thus the poor boy rested calmly
in the midst of danger--yet i