be down-hearted, young gal, an' wait for me. Ef the Lord lets me,
I will save you, and the old lady, too; that is, ef she is your aunt or
mother or near of kin."

I shook my head drearily.

"You have no hope, then, Mr. Garth?"

"Hope? yes; the best of hope--the Christian's hope. God can do any thing
He pleases, we all know, and He may stretch forth his hand when all
seems dark; but Captain Ambrose is not one to run a risk of that sort,
so he has sent me to work upon a raft--one of two he is making for the
seamen if the wust comes to the wust. But you see, I have been on lost
ships afore now, an' I know there is no larboard nor starboard rules
when men are skeered. So I shall make my raft to hold the womenfolk, for
the boats will be for the sailors--mark my word--and them that's wise
will wait till the press is over and take the rafts."

"There are little children," I said; "six of them belonging to that lady
and Mr. Lamarque. Don't forget them, Mr. Garth, and the poor little
widow coming now to claim her baby; this miserable little creature I am
holding until she breakfasts. Don't lose sight of these, either, in the
crowd, if, indeed, we are obliged to have recourse to your raft."

"Pray rayther that it may float us all to safety," he said, sternly,
"for your best chance of being saved will be on that raft, if matters go
as I think they will. Trust me, for I will come;" and he passed away
just before the little widow came to my side again.

"I came up as soon as I could, to relieve you. I know how cross baby is
when he gets restless, and I was afraid you might tire of him. See! I
have brought his bread, and this waiter of tea and toast for you; now
you must take a mouthful."

She knew nothing of our danger, it was plain. "Did you leave the other
passengers at table?" I asked; "the captain, was he there?"

The question was never answered, for the attention of my interlocutor
was riveted now, as was my own, on the companion-way, from which a wild
and frightened-looking crowd was densely emerging, with a confused hum
of voices that announced their recognition of their impending danger.
The change of age, of pain, of woe, seemed sealed upon each aspect, as
one by one, and phantom-like, in rapid succession, those who had so
lately gone down to feast returned to the upper day, like grim ghosts
coming from a church-yard carnival.

It was a sight to stir the stoutest spirit.

At the close of the repast, the captain h