fastened on the form of Marble, expecting each time that the top rose to
view to find it empty. He was too securely lashed, however, to strike
adrift, though he was nearly half the time under water. It was impossible
to do anything to save him. No boat was left; had there been one, it could
not have lived, nor could I have managed it alone. Spars he had already,
but what must become of him without food or water? I threw two breakers of
the last into the sea, and a box of bread, in a sort of idle hope they
might drift down near the wreck, and help to prolong the sufferer's life.
They were all tossed about in the cauldron of the ocean, and disappeared
to leeward, I knew not whither. When Marble was no longer visible from
deck, I went into the main-top and watched the mass of spars and rigging,
so long as any portion of it could be seen. Then I set it by compass, in
order to know its bearing, and an hour before the sun went down, or as
soon as the diminished power of the wind would permit, I showed an ensign
aloft, as a signal that I bore my mate in mind.

"He knows I will not desert him as long as there is hope--so long as I
have life!" I muttered to myself; and this thought was a relief to my
mind, in that bitter moment.

Bitter moment, truly! Time has scarcely lessened the keenness of the
sensations I endured, as memory traces the feelings and incidents of that
day. From the hour when I sailed from home, Lucy's image was seldom absent
from my imagination, ten minutes at a time; I thought of her, sleeping and
waking; in all my troubles; the interest of the sea-fight I had seen could
not prevent this recurrence of my ideas to their polar star, their
powerful magnet; but I do not remember to have thought of Lucy, even, once
after Marble was thus carried away from my side. Neb, too, with his
patient servitude, his virtues, his faults, his dauntless courage, his
unbounded devotion to myself, had taken a strong hold on my heart, and his
loss had greatly troubled me, since the time it occurred. But I remember
to have thought much of Lucy, even after Neb was swept away, though her
image became temporarily lost to my mind, during the first few hours I was
thus separated from Marble.

By the time the sun set, the wind had so far abated, and the sea had gone
down so much, as to remove all further apprehensions from the gale. The
ship lay-to easily, and I had no occasion to give myself any trouble on
her account. Had there been l