dships to which a
seaman in his career is exposed. I must not say that I was in any way
frightened. I resolved to keep a bold heart in my body. "Never mind,"
I answered to Peter's remark; "while I've got you and the captain on
board, I don't fear anything."

Peter laughed. "We may be very well in our way," said he; "but, Jack,
my advice is: Trust in God, and hold on by the weather-rigging. Should
the ship go down, look out for spar or a plank if there's no boat
afloat; and if you can find nothing, swim as long as you can; but
whatever you do, trust in God."

I have never forgotten Peter's advice. Never have I found that trust
deceive me; and often and often have I been mercifully preserved when I
had every reason to believe that my last hour had come. I should remark
also that, badly off as I have often fancied myself, I have soon had
reason to be thankful that I was not in the condition of others around
me.

While Peter was speaking, one of the crew sung out, "a sail on the
weather-bow!" Sure enough, as we rose on the summit of a sea, a ship
could be seen with all her topsails set running before the wind. Peter
remarked that she was standing directly for us. "She is a large ship,
by the squareness of her yards; probably either from the West Indies or
South America, or maybe China, or from some port in the Pacific, and she
has come round the Horn."

We watched her for some time. "She has a signal of distress flying,
sir," said the first mate, who had been looking at her through a glass.

"She is in a bad way, then," remarked the captain. "I fear that unless
the sea goes down, and she in the meantime can heave-to near us, we can
render her no assistance."

On came the ship right for us. I thought that she would run us down;
so, indeed, I found did others on board. The mates, indeed, went to the
wheel to put the helm up to let the brig fall off, that we might get out
of her way; but as she approached, she altered her course a little, so
that she might pass clear under our stem. Never shall I forget the look
of that strange ship; for, as she came near us, rolling in the trough of
the sea, we could see clearly everything going forward on her decks.

She was a Spaniard, so Peter told me, as he knew from the ensign which
flew out, hoisted half-way to her peak. She was a high-pooped ship,
with a deep waist and a lofty forecastle, her upper works narrowing as
they rose, with large lanterns, and much rich