w I thought I saw him clinging on to the rigging
with one hand, while with the other, his axe gleaming above his head, he
made stroke after stroke at the ropes by which the topgallant yard still
hung to the mast. Had he been hurled from the rigging, the ocean would
have been his tomb, for, heeling over as the ship was, he would have
fallen far to leeward. I fully expected such would be his fate; it
might be mine too, for I was determined to make the attempt if others
failed. I thought of the young woman who had visited him on board, and
of her sorrowing heart. My eye caught sight of something falling. Was
it Ellis? No! A shout rose from the crew. Down came the shattered
spar and the torn sail clear of everything, and fell into the foaming,
hissing waters, through which the frigate was forcing her way. The
topgallant mast stood uninjured. Ellis the next minute was beside me on
the deck.

"Thank you, Ellis; you did that work nobly," I said to him. "I think
that no one in future will venture to taunt you for your Bible-reading
propensities."

I was now able to send the hands aloft to shorten sail, and I fully
believe that our masts, and the ship herself, and our lives, were saved
by that act of courage. I afterwards asked Ellis how he felt when
aloft.

"That I was in the hands of God, sir," he answered. "I prayed for His
protection, and I never felt my heart more light, or my courage more
firm." [See Note.]

As may be supposed, no one after this ventured to call Ellis a milksop,
or to speak disparagingly of him in any other way. Jones sunk in public
estimation as Ellis rose, and gained great influence among the ship's
company, which he did not fail to use to their benefit. He still
further increased it by another act, which, however, was not so much a
proof of courage as of presence of mind, only the sailors declared, with
a tinge of superstition, that no other man on board could have done it.
I will mention it presently.

I frequently spoke to Ellis in a way an officer cannot venture to do,
except to a well-tried man. One day I asked him if he did not wish to
write to his wife, as I had the opportunity of sending letters.

"I am not married, sir," he answered, calmly. "That young woman you
saw, sir, Mary Summers, has promised to marry me when I get back, if I
can prove to her that I have acted all the time I have been away like a
Christian man. It's a long story too, and I won't trouble you with