d his hat, took one look around him, and then stepped on
to the raft. "Shove off, my lads," he cried, as with long planks ripped
from the deck and hastily fashioned into sweeps, the men bore her away
from the brig's side.

"We must get a few fathom away before the old barky makes her last
plunge, Lowe."

"Ay, ay, sir; ship the sweeps, my lads, and give way."

There was not a breath of wind, but the growing coolness of the air told
of morning being near, for in tropical climates the coldest hour of the
twenty-four is ever that which precedes dawn.

The sweeps were long and clumsy, and as the royal which had been set as
sail was wholly useless, the motion of the unwieldy raft was necessarily
very slow. Two men were at each sweep, and there were four of them, yet
the raft barely moved through the water. Captain Weber sat on a case,
his head leaning on his hands, and his face turned towards the
"Halcyon."

The starlight was not bright enough to show the tears that rolled slowly
down his weather-beaten cheeks. On a heap of sails, nestling by her
husband's side, his large military cloak thrown over her, sat Isabel,
and she too was looking towards the dark mass of the sinking vessel.
The seaman mourned his ship, the home of many years, the companion of
danger of every kind; Isabel's cheek was wet too, for she mourned a
father's loss, and her eyes were eagerly, turned to a dim, faint ray of
light shining from one of the ports. She knew that it came from the
cabin where her dead father lay. The sweeps fell with measured cadence
into the water, the men pulling in stern silence, until they were about
five hundred yards away, and then, without, any order from any one, they
ceased rowing. The grey dawn was slowly breaking over the ocean as the
brig gave one wild roll to port. She seemed unable to right herself,
and those on the raft drew a long breath, as she partially did so. The
water, in her hold rolled heavily forward. Down went her bows, down,
down into the salt sea, as lurching heavily and slowly to starboard, she
disappeared, the sea boiling in foam around her.

"My father! oh, my father!" cried Isabel, as she clasped her hands
together and sprang forward, as though to join him, but her husband's
strong arm was round her, drawing her gently back.

"Give way, my lads, give way, the old barky's bones are better there
than if the crew of the accursed pirate schooner had trod her decks,"
said the captain, delibe