side of the
foremast-bitts, supported on the one side by the boatswain, and on the
other by Price, the second-lieutenant, next to whom was the captain of
the forecastle, one of the steadiest and best seamen in the ship, who
had been pressed out of a West Indiaman, in which he had served in the
capacity of second mate.

Our hero had often turned round with an intention to speak to Price; but
observing that he sat crouched with his face upon his hands and knees,
he waited until his messmate should raise his head up, imagining that he
was occupied in secret prayer. Finding that he still continued in the
same position, Seymour called to him several times. Not receiving any
answer, he extended his arm and shook Price by the collar, fearing that
he had swooned from cold and fatigue.

Price slowly raised his head, and looking at Seymour, answered not. His
vacant stare and wild eye proclaimed at once that reason had departed.
Still, as it afterwards appeared, his ruling passion remained; and, from
that incomprehensible quality of our structure, which proves that the
mind of man is more fearfully and wonderfully made than the body, the
desertion of one sense was followed by the return of another. His
_memory_ was perfect, now that his _reason_ was gone. Surveying the
scene around him, he began with all the theatrical action which the
ropes that secured him would permit, to quote his favourite author:--

"`Blow winds, and crack your cheeks--rage--blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout--'

"`Poor Tom's a-cold'"--then, shuddering, he covered up his face, and
resumed his former position.

"Is this a time for spouting profane plays, Mr Price?" said the
fanatical boatswain, who was not aware of the poor man's insanity.
"Hold your peace, and call not judgment on our heads, and I prophesy
that we shall be saved. `The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage
horribly; but yet the Lord who dwelleth on high is mightier.'"

Silence ensued, which, after a few minutes, was interrupted by Seymour
lamenting over the fate of Captain M--- and the rest of the crew who had
perished.

"Well, they are in heaven before this, I hope?" observed Robinson, the
captain of the forecastle.

"`Many are called, but few chosen,'" rejoined the boatswain, who
appeared, by the flashing of his eye, to be in a state of strong
excitement. "No more in heaven than you would be, if the Almighty was
pleased to cut you off in his wrath."

"Where t