e in a cheery tone, which I recognised as that of Peter
Pongo. My spirits returned. I had been a careless, thoughtless fellow,
but I prayed then as I never prayed before, that the dreadful sharks
might be kept from me, that I might reach the grating, and might by some
means or other be saved. I felt a strength and courage I had not felt
before. I struck out with all my power, still it seemed very very long
before I reached the grating, and in my agitation I almost sank as I was
catching hold of it. Peter Pongo had, however, sprang on to it and
caught hold of me. I soon recovered. Words enough did not just then
come into my head to thank him, but I took his hand, and he understood
me. So far I was safe, for the grating was large enough to hold us
both, but the sea was rapidly rising, and we might easily again be
washed off. We looked about us, the schooner had not yet tacked, and
the squall had already caught her. She was heeling over on her
beam-ends, and everything seemed in confusion on board--yards swinging
about, ropes flying away, and sails shivering to tatters. It was late
in the evening, the sky was obscured, and darkness was coming on. The
seas, too, began to dance wildly about us; their white tops, curling
over and leaving dark cavern-looking hollows underneath, into which it
seemed every instant that we must glide and be swallowed up. The
prospect altogether was gloomy in the extreme. I felt how much I owed
to poor Peter Pongo, who had voluntarily exposed himself to it for my
sake, and I felt that had he not done so, I should long before this have
been numbered with the dead. I still thought that we should both be
saved. There were some bits of rope fastened to the grating, and by
these we lashed ourselves to it, or we should inevitably have been
washed off. We were constantly under water, but as it was warm that did
not signify, as we soon again came to the surface. Our fear was lest
some hungry shark should make a dart at us on those occasions and pick
us off. Darker and darker it grew, the seas as they dashed wildly about
made a loud prolonged roar, and at last, as we cast our eyes forward,
not a glimpse of the schooner could we see. As the conviction of our
forlorn condition broke upon me--I could not help it--I gave way to
tears. I could not wring my hands because they were busy holding on to
the grating. I thought of you, mother, and papa, and dear Harry, and
our sisters, and that I s