n I know Ruth Bellenden's story, that I listened that
night to the clearheaded wisdom of Anthony Jacob.

"You're right, as always, Mister Jacob. I've no call to take these good
fellows on a fool's errand. And it's going to blow hard, as you say.
We'll take in one of the boats, and those that are for the shore will
make haste to get aboard the other."

This I said to him, but to the men I put it in a few seaman's words.

"Lads," I said, "no boat that Southampton ever built could swim in
yonder tide where it makes between the reefs. We'd like to help
shipmates, but the chance is not ours. There's another little shipmate
ashore there that needs our help pretty badly. I'm going in for her
sake, and there's not a man of you that will not do his duty by the
ship when I'm gone. Aye, you'll stand by Mister Jacob, lads, I may tell
him that?"

They gave me a rousing cheer, which was a pretty foolish thing to have
done, and it took all my voice to silence them. Lucky for us, there was
a cloud over the moon now, and darkness like a black vapour upon the
sea. Not a lamp burned on the Southern Cross; not a cabin window but
had its curtain. What glow came from her funnel was not more than a
hazy red light over the waters; and when five of us (for we took Harry
Doe to stand by ashore) stepped into the longboat, and set her head due
west for the land, we lost the steamer in five minutes--and, God knows,
we were never to see her again on the high seas or off.

Now, I have said that the wind had begun to blow fresh since sunset,
and at two bells in the first watch, the time we left the ship, the sea
ran high, and it was not oversafe even in the longboat to be cruising
for a shore we knew so little about. I have always accounted it more
good luck than good seamanship which brought us to the cove at last,
and set us all, wet but cheerful, on the dry, white sand about the
ladder's foot. There was shelter in the bay both for man and ship, and
when we'd dragged the longboat up on the beach we gave Harry Doe his
orders and left him to his duty.

"If there's danger fire your gun," said I--"once, if you wish to call
us; twice, if you think we should stand off. But you won't do that
unless things are at the worst, and I'm hoping for the best, when you
won't do it at all."

He answered, "Aye, aye," in a whisper which was like a bear's growl;
and we four, Peter Bligh, Seth Barker, and the lad Dolly, besides
myself, climbed the ladder like ca