n be over," said Mr. Holmes in a voice so despairing that it
rang in the ears of John Stevens to his dying day. "Crew and passengers
are nearly all gone, and my turn will come soon."

Even as he spoke, the purser, two men and four women were washed
overboard, their drowning screams mingling with the hollow roars of
the ocean.

"Take her! take her!" cried Mr. Holmes frantically. "I resign her to
you. I am going; I can hold out no longer."

A wave more terrible than any that had preceded it at this moment seemed
to bury the ship, which was driving straight toward the unknown shore.
Instinctively John wound one arm about the girl and held to the capstan
with the other. It seemed an age, and he was almost on the point of
relaxing his hold on the capstan, when they once more rose above the
water, and he got a breath of air. He still clung to Blanche in despair,
though she lay so limp in his arms that he thought her dead.

It was now dark, for night had fallen upon the awful scene. A flash of
lightning illuminated the wreck, Mr. Holmes was gone, and Stevens could
not see another soul on the vessel. The wild roar of surf fell on his
ears, and a moment later he felt the bottom of the ship grating on the
sands. It seemed to glide further and further on the beach, as if the
ship were being lifted and driven inland. The tide was at the full, and
the wind was blowing a hurricane on shore, so that the wreck was driven
far up on the beach, and at low tide it was high and dry.

John Stevens remained by the capstan, as it was highest point, holding
Blanche in his arms long after the ship had settled in the sands. The
waves leaped and raved angrily below; but not a human voice was heard.
He asked himself if Blanche were dead or living. At last he felt her
move and, placing his hand on her heart, was rejoiced to know that it
still beat.

"Father--father!" she faintly murmured.

"He is gone," John answered.

"Is this you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Cling to me."

"I will. We will survive or perish together."

Then she became silent, and the night grew blacker, while the storm
howled; but the waves receded with the ebbing tide, and the broken hulk
remained fast fixed in the sands. The poor girl shivered all through
that night and clung to her preserver. She did not weep at the loss of
her father, for the horror of their situation dried the fountains of
grief. All night long the warring elements raged about the remaining
castaway